With You
by Sailor X1
Summary: "Then he kissed him. Nothing fancy. Just… kissed him." Sometimes, the things that seem the most complicated are actually quite simple. Harry and Ron were never known for choosing the simple route though. [Harry/Ron]
1. Prologue

It has been roughly a decade since I've even looked at a piece of fanfiction, never mind actually set out to write one. About a year ago though, scenes from this story popped into my head from god knows where and would simply not leave. There are now so many scenes that I figured 'oh hell- might as well publish it.' It's worth clarifying: this is a slash fic... that's the whole focus. If that bothers you, proceed no further. If you find it slightly odd that a straight female is writing a story about two gay men figuring out their sexuality, I'm on your side, but like I said, this just appeared in my head one day and wouldn't leave so here we are.

If anyone feels the rating isn't strong enough, please let me know. There is nothing really explicit here, but my Ron and Harry tend to use more colourful language than Rowling allowed.

Any and all feedback is more than welcome.

* * *

Grimmauld Place had always been noisy at night. Removing all manner of dark objects and dark magic and dark… whatevers, hadn't changed that. At least now the creaks and scuffles were part of the normal course of an old house settling in on itself, rather than a threat on the inhabitants' lives.

Not that this knowledge helped anyone feel less creeped out in the old house at night. Anyone would feel restless by themselves. Uneasy; desperate to know someone else was there. Especially anyone that had spent the better part of their lives in near constant danger.

At least, this is what Harry told himself. He had no idea what _Ron_ told himself.

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. It had been all well and good to live at the Burrow when the war ended, but when even George had pulled himself together enough to go back to his flat, it seemed there were no more excuses for two adult wizards to be living… well in his case, in his best mate's parents' house.

Kreacher had been dropping hints with all his usual tact that number 12 was in tip top shape, should Harry wish to return, and they'd needed to push themselves to move forward if he was being honest. Kingsley had flatly refused to allow them to start the Auror Academy right away, which had been a bit of a shock. He'd explained that while they would have places when they were ready, regardless of their lack of NEWTs, he couldn't allow them to go straight into that environment. They needed to rest, to heal. He was right of course, but it had still stung and left Harry a bit adrift.

Harry and Ron had therefore taken their first normal step into adulthood and moved out of the Burrow and into Grimmauld Place; just the two of them with the still slightly barmy Kreacher. Very grown up of them, if he did say so himself. Ron even insisted on paying Harry a bit of rent with his wages from Wheezes (once George had been able to start paying him anyway; it had taken some time to get the business properly up and running again).

So again, it had seemed like a great idea at the time. Good progress in the business of 'moving on.'

Except Harry was fairly certain that two grown men didn't normally feel the need to share the same bed in a house with half a dozen perfectly decent bedrooms. He wasn't even entirely certain how it had happened.

Well, he knew how it had started.

Their first night they had both turned in to their separate rooms, only for Ron to show up mildly panicked at Harry's door at nearly 2 in the morning.

Spiders. The man could duel death eaters and giants but one spider sighting at the foot of his bed and it was either find and dispose of the creature then and there or burn the place down. For reasons he'd rather not think about now, Harry hadn't yet fallen asleep when Ron had shown up, flushed and embarrassed at his door, and he was too tired to do anything about the stupid spider right then. So, with a shrug, Harry had just swung his door open, walked back to the bed, and muttered that they'd sort it in the morning. Ron had hesitated, but only for a moment before climbing in the bed after him.

It was a King sized mattress, more bed than any one person needed and an ocean of duvet and extra pillows between them. He and Ron had slept in closer proximity countless times. If he was somehow able to fall asleep once Ron's steady breathing was within ear shot, who was he to complain?

What he didn't really understand was why they hadn't sorted the spider the next day. When it was time for bed, they'd both just climbed up the stairs and into the master suite without a word about it. It was about a week before Harry admitted to himself that he desperately didn't want to be alone in the giant house at night, and that Ron likely felt the same.

In some ways, it wasn't all that weird. Loathe though they were to admit it, both he and Ron still had a lot of work to do as far as dealing with everything they'd been through. In the days and weeks following the battle, they'd been quick to realize that putting silencing charms up at night was a good idea; no sense worrying Molly, who was having a hard enough time trudging through her grief. Harry had nearly lost his mind with panic the first time Ron had woken him up with his screams. It had taken Harry a full minute to realize Ron was only dreaming, and another full minute to get himself under control enough to clamor out of his camp bed to go wake his friend.

Those first few months had been hell. There was no other way to put it. They'd both been mortified at first. After everything they'd been through, it probably should have been easier to see one another in such vulnerable positions but this… this was new. And different. There was no war to soldier on to, no reasonable excuse to swallow the emotional trauma down and set it aside for another time. That other time was now.

Ron had broken the barriers down first, which wasn't a surprise to Harry, who still struggled to remember that he was _allowed _to feel anything, thank you very much Vernon Dursley. It had shocked Ron a fair bit though.

He'd been screaming in his sleep again, thrashing so wildly it was a miracle he was still on his bed when Harry came to wake him, trying to shake him awake without adding to the thrashing. He'd shot up, nearly knocking Harry out in the process, his eyes frantically scanning the room when they finally locked on Harry. Without thinking, he'd taken Harry's face in both of his hands and just stared at him for a few seconds before dissolving into sobs. He'd let go of Harry's face and pressed his own into Harry's chest and just… wept.

Harry had been slightly stunned. They would often sit together after one of them had a nightmare, hand on a shoulder and politely turning their head while the other snuffled quietly for a few minutes. The closest Harry had seen Ron to truly crying like this was the ordeal with the locket, but even that was nothing quite like this.

When Ron had started attempting to choke out apologies amidst his sobs, Harry's brain clicked back into gear and his only thought had been 'sod it' as he wrapped his friend up fully into a proper hug with a firm, "Don't apologize."

The shocks continued the next morning: They'd _talked_ about it. It was possibly one of his more awkward conversations with Ron (which was saying something) but they'd done it. It wasn't how they usually approached things. There would be an acknowledgment, sure, but a proper conversation? Never.

But it _helped._ Neither one of them could deny it. So they kept doing it. Not all the time, of course. But whenever one of them had a particularly bad nightmare, or a particularly troubling panic attack (it had taken Harry a full month to admit to himself that's what they were), they would talk about it, at least a little. It was to the point now where Harry wasn't sure there was a single thing he could tell Ron that would be embarrassing, and vise versa.

So, all things considered, the pair of them sharing a bed when they didn't absolutely have to wasn't the strangest thing in the world. They could separate them into two single beds he supposed, but it's not like they were ever anywhere near each other while they slept.

Except that one time, when Ron had suffered a bit of a fit in his sleep but calmed down without waking, ending up half sprawled over Harry, who had been awake at the time. That had been weeks ago, and Harry was currently doing his level best not to think about it… again.

Why the bloody hell did he keep thinking about it in the first place? He'd admitted to himself ages ago that going through the things he and Ron had together made their friendship a bit… unorthodox sometimes. He didn't have much to go on, but he was fairly certain two blokes blubbering all over one another on more than one occasion wasn't exactly normal. It probably wasn't particularly typical for best mates to occasionally need to cling together after a nightmare either. Merlin, they were such a mess. But he could blame all that on the war. While never officially diagnosed, he knew they both had some legitimate PTSD.

But he was dead certain that the electric rush he'd gotten when Ron had wound up sprawled over him in bed was _not_ normal, and he'd yet to come up with a way to blame the war for it.

He didn't want to think about it. Yet it was the only thing he _could_ think about. At first, he thought maybe he missed Ginny more than he'd realized, but he'd been forced to give that thought up.

Things with Ginny had not fallen apart exactly, but they were over. They'd tried. Truly. The reality was that they were both a little bit too different after the war. She felt the same, which was more of a relief than Harry could properly express. He wasn't sure he could have broken her heart all over again- this girl he'd held through her brother's funeral- who had held him through Remus and Tonks' funerals. Ginny had endured a different sort of hell to Harry in the last year, and she had her own work to do as far as moving forward was concerned.

They'd both cried when they admitted it wasn't working, something neither one of them did all that frequently, even in the midst of the never ending funeral processions. Harry liked to think it was a testament to what they meant to each other. He'd focused on this part, rather than the parts about the whole thing that confused him. Like how he'd craved being near Ron and Hermione far more often than he wanted to be near Ginny, despite having ached for her over the entire horcrux hunt. Or how he never really seemed to seek her out on his own. Or how he didn't want to touch her, apart from the comforting embraces they shared in their sadness. It was more… sisterly. Like hugging Hermione.

He had particularly avoided thinking about that last one.

With an internal sigh, Harry rolled over to his other side, punching his pillow in his frustration. Things were pretty good really, relatively speaking. Grief came and went in waves, but as time went on there were more good days than bad. Actually admitting to the panic attacks and the anxiety that came with them had helped a lot as well, partly because he'd realized quickly that he wasn't alone and partly because he felt a bit as though admitting they were there gave him some ownership over the whole thing.

Most days, things were all right. He had a laugh with Ron in the evenings, spent his days making Grimmauld Place inhabitable from more than a physical safety standpoint, and corresponding with the ministry over Death Eater prosecutions. He had Kingsley to thank for the ability to do this primarily by owl. He had to show up in person from time to time, but showing up at the courts and reliving his hell day in and day out was not something he could have coped with.

He was grateful to Kingsley for a lot of things really. He and Ron had both had a right rage about him when he'd all but said they were too fragile to join up with the Aurors right away, but now Harry didn't like to imagine the state they'd be in if they'd been allowed in. He imagined there'd be a lot more firewhiskey in his life.

With another sigh, Harry opened his eyes to find that Ron had rolled over in his sleep and was now facing him, still a safe, healthy distance away. They were all different after the war, but Ron was… _different_, different. Harry couldn't get his head around what it was exactly. With the whole PTSD and nightmare thing, Harry had talked- properly _talked_\- to Ron more in the last 6 months than he probably had in the last 7 years. They were still very much the same mates as always- that part hadn't changed, thank Merlin. But this new talking they were doing was intimacy on a level that… well, that warranted the use of the word _intimacy_.

Harry couldn't help but think perhaps Ron's emotional range wasn't that of a teaspoon, but an ocean, only he'd been repressing the tide of it for so long that he struggled to know how feelings even worked sometimes. The dam seemed to have opened now though, and Ron was more rawly emotional since the war ended than Harry had ever seen him.

Despite all this, something was off. There was a new part of Ron that was guarded. Scared, maybe? Harry couldn't tell. He'd just ask him straight out but there was nothing concrete enough to ask about really. It wasn't like in fourth year when he'd acted like a jealous prat. Or on the horcrux hunt, when he'd been a different kind of jealous prat.

Ron also spent a lot of time with Bill, and his other brothers for that matter. At first, Harry didn't think anything of this. There was a grief that Harry couldn't share as far as losing a brother went. It was perfectly logical to Harry that the Weasley siblings would band together in the aftermath of Fred's death. George had sure as hell needed them.

There was just this… awkwardness about Ron after he'd spent an evening at Bill's. Harry always shook it off because there was never any real evidence apart from just a general feeling.

Then there was Hermione. For the life of him, Harry couldn't figure out what in Merlin's name was going on there. Admittedly, in the first month or two after everything had ended, when it wasn't the three of them together, he hadn't really been clued in to what was going on with Ron or Hermione individually. They'd never admitted it out loud, but they'd needed some space, almost as often as they'd needed to be together. They couldn't explain it, but thankfully they didn't need to.

In hindsight, the whole Australia thing had been a little odd. Hermione, being the barmy woman she was, had it in her head she would go collect her parents alone. As if he and Ron would ever let that happen. Once they'd cleared that up, Harry had at least had the sensitivity to speak with Ron privately and ask if perhaps he should stay behind- let Hermione and Ron do this together, just the two of them. Harry had thought Ron would be keen on the idea. Traveling alone with Hermione, with actual accommodations and regular meals instead of a tent and mushrooms. Harry would have thought Ron would be well up for it. When it came down to it though, Ron had seemed slightly alarmed by the whole idea. He'd shut down Harry's protests instantly, insisting that of course, it was the three of them together, always.

Once they'd returned to England, Hermione had understandably spent quite a bit of time with her parents, but had been around the burrow a lot after realizing that Harry and Ron would _not_ be returning to complete their 7th year at Hogwarts. That had been a terrible conversation, but she'd come around. She always did.

Still, Harry had been waiting for the inevitable third wheel moments now that Hermione and Ron had sorted out where they stood with each other. But it never happened. He couldn't understand it. He'd tried to broach the subject with Ron more than once, but he never got much out of him. Ron would clam up whenever the topic was raised, by Harry or anyone else for that matter. He never denied anything, but he certainly wasn't volunteering anything either. Hermione had been equally quiet on the topic, but Harry could hardly blame her for not pushing things along. Ron's brother had just died and really, what could you say to that?

Part of Harry wished Ron and Hermione would be a bit more public about their relationship… or at least acknowledge they had one? He liked to think it would have made dismissing this strange new thing with Ron a lot easier. It had been 2 weeks, and still Harry spent the vast majority of his nights secretly hoping Ron would wind up sprawled about the bed again.

Harry winced at the admittance, even if only in his head. This was mental. He'd had two girlfriends for Merlin's sake. One of which even seemed to enjoy it when he kissed her.

The thought made Harry's breath catch as he froze mid exhale. Ginny seemed to enjoy it, true.

Had _he_?

Harry jerked the duvet and rolled over, rather aggressively, putting his back to Ron. He would not go there. There was no 'there' to go to anyway. He was an emotional wreck, not… there wasn't anything else. He clenched his eyes shut.

It was usually at this point that Harry managed to put his brain back to rights. Remind himself that he was just being stupid and overly emotional.

For the first half of Harry's life, all he'd known was rejection. Painful rejection. Even now, though he kept it buried deep down, there was a part of him that still wished for the Dursley's to want him. He spent his childhood repressing every part of himself, hoping desperately that his aunt and uncle would love him.

Hagrid had showed up and changed everything overnight. There was a world in which he belonged, where he was wanted. That didn't mean Harry had suddenly known he could be himself though. It couldn't take away the poison in his head, slipped into his bloodstream steadily for 10 years, telling him he was a freak, freak, _freak_. To this day, the word still made him flinch.

It had taken him a long, long time to understand just how horrific his childhood had been. Even now he was peeling back new layers of it. There had been a day a couple months ago, holding Teddy, in which Harry had needed a full 10 minutes before he could speak. Harry loved that baby. Loved him in a way that he didn't have words for. Roughly 18 years ago Harry's own family had held him, an orphan, a baby, and decided he was not worth loving.

He'd needed the first 5 minutes to recover from the pain of this realization, and the second 5 minutes to beat the poison out of his head- remind himself that he wasn't unlovable, or useless, or a _freak_. The only words he'd managed to get out after those 10 minutes were a mumbled, "D'you mind 'Mione?" as he gently passed Teddy over to her before excusing himself to go choke down a few sobs.

He didn't want to think about where he'd be if it hadn't been the Weasley's he'd found on the platform that day. Probably dead somewhere, if he were honest. Not that he wanted to be particularly morbid about it or anything, but he didn't think he could have made it against Voldemort if he hadn't had the Weasley's in his life.

He was grateful. That word wasn't strong enough but if he tried to articulate it he was likely to just end up gesturing wildly for lack of any better words to use.

He was free now though. He knew how to love. Knew he was loved, even if he still had to grapple with his disbelief from time to time. Knew the people he cared about were safe. No maniacs using the people he cared about against him. No life and death riddles to solve. Just a normal life. All he'd ever wanted really.

Except…

Why wasn't he asleep yet? He didn't allow himself to tread this far into the waters. Especially not at night. Especially not sharing a bed with his best mate… his best _male_ mate.

He couldn't allow this. Not now. Not after he'd come so far. He belonged. He was wanted. He was _normal_. He was not a… a freak?

That wasn't the word. He _knew_ that wasn't the word. But it was the same thing wasn't it? Vernon and Petunia Dursely would certainly think so. Maybe the Weasleys would too?

Just as he began the exhausting process of removing the Dursely's poison from his head, reminding himself that the Weasleys were nothing like the Dursleys, Harry felt Ron twitch beside him, subtly, at first, but it quickly progressed to proper rustling, the duvet shifting from Harry's shoulders as Ron twisted about.

Harry was immediately sitting up, on high alert, ready to wake his friend from any nightmares, but relaxed when he saw Ron's face was not twisted up into a sharp grimace that bore the signs of terror.

He watched as his best mate settled down, curling up once again on his side, hugging an extra pillow to his chest. Ron's freckles stood out more starkly in the dimly moonlit room. He had 22 on his nose.

Why the bloody hell did he know _that_? That was a ridiculous thing for him to know. He couldn't tell you how many freckles Ginny had on her nose. He shouldn't be awake. He shouldn't be thinking about this.

It was this moment that Ron let out a soft little groan in his sleep. This was not the moan of desperation or horror that accompanied some of their nightmares. This was altogether different, and the sound zinged through Harry like fire. The electric current that had run through him all those nights ago ran through him again, giving him gooseflesh. And before he could stop himself, before he could refocus his mind somewhere else, the name for it came to him, uninvited and unwanted, the name for the electricity that shot up and down him again as Ron's deep sigh invaded his senses.

Desire.

Harry froze, scrunching his eyes closed and willing everything in his brain to stop, to go no further, to not allow this. But it was too late.

Oliver and the twins in the quidditch changing rooms, un-embarrassed by their bare chests and low slung towels as Harry's 12 year old self had gone hot and cold at the same time while he watched the three of them horse around together.

Seamus in the dorms 4th year, declaring he preferred sleeping in the buff and strutting confidently to his four poster, completely starkers, while the other boys had laughed and wolf whistled… and while Harry had gone cherry red and laughed nervously along.

Cho. His first kiss, and their mutual discomfort the entire time it was happening.

Ginny. Oh Ginny. Ginny and her wonderful red hair. Ginny and her lifetime of practice being one of the guys. Ginny and her patience while he went away with no promise to come back. Ginny and her forwardness that had led the way in abandoned corridors his sixth year. Ginny and her blazing expression at the end of a quidditch match. Ginny: who Harry had desperately wanted to make happy… but had he ever really stopped to think about whether or not _he_ was?

And Ron. His first friend. Ron, who had shared everything his whole life, and still shared his family with Harry. Ron, who puked slugs for the girl he'd once claimed was a nightmare.

...Who had followed the spiders; followed him into danger over, and over, and over.

...Who made sure Harry could laugh even when things were their darkest.

...Who defended him, always, even when Harry didn't want him to.

...Who showed up when it counted.

...Who in the last 6 months had all but bared his _soul_ to Harry with nothing but open trust. Who had allowed Harry to do the same, without judgment.

Ron. Ron. Ron...

Harry bolted out of bed, needing to somehow stem the tide. He felt sick, panicked. How had he not seen? How the hell had this only just occurred to him at 18 years old? As if the whole thing wasn't absurd enough, he'd somehow managed to make it to adulthood without the idea ever really formulating properly? For Merlin's sake, Ron had been deemed the thing he'd miss most when half his competitors dove into the lake after the girls they'd fancied! If that hadn't been a giant fucking clue…

He stopped pacing and took a deep, steadying breath through his nose. The last thing he needed was a panic attack.

Ron was rustling again, only this time he was awake, his radar for Harry's anxiety acute even in sleep.

"H'ry?" he mumbled sleepily, "Alright mate?"

Harry looked at his friend. His _best_ friend. His best friend with 22 freckles on his nose.

The word was in his head before he could stop it, poison tipped and spreading past his preliminary defenses.

Freak.

Freak.

_Freak._

Harry bolted, rushing for the loo and barely shutting the door behind him before he was retching.

Ron was there barely a second later, knocking softly for permission.

"Harry? You ok mate? What… I mean…"

"M'okay Ron," Harry rasped out, the majority of his efforts going towards keeping the remaining contents of his stomach down. Even though Ron was the last person he wanted to interact with at the present moment, he knew the importance of letting him know he was ok. He knew what it was like to be on the other side of the door, desperately trying to keep his own anxiety at bay in case Ron was in trouble.

"Do you want… Can I just come in please?"

Harry nudged the door open from his seat on the floor by the toilet, not looking up as he heard Ron shuffle in.

"What is it Harry? Can I do anything?"

Hating himself for it, Harry retched again, losing the battle. Ron's hand was on his shoulder in a move that would have been absurd several months ago, but felt completely appropriate after months of far more emotional and intimate exchanges.

When at last Harry's abs relaxed long enough for him to breath properly, he pressed his forehead into the cool porcelain of the toilet, not wanting to look at Ron just yet.

"Not sure what happened," he wheezed out, pausing to collect his breath. "Must've been something I ate."

He wasn't in the habit of lying to Ron, but he couldn't fathom saying anything else at the minute.

"We had the same curry for dinner."

Harry shrugged, still keeping his head pressed to the porcelain. "Brace yourself then mate."

Ron snickered, and Harry felt himself relax slightly.

"Do you have any ministry hearings you have to turn up for tomorrow? Or today I suppose- as it's nearly 4 in the morning. I can probably sort out going for you instead?"

Harry shook his head, finally looking up at Ron, who had perched himself on the side of the bath. He felt a twinge of relief as the sight of his friend's face didn't cause some sort of insane reaction. It was still just Ron.

"I think I'm all right, now that it's out. I don't need to show up anyway, just have a few statements to owl in."

Ron nodded and stifled a yawn. "I'll get you a glass of water and see if we have any nausea potion."

Harry grunted his thanks as Ron shuffled out.

Why was nothing in his life ever simple?


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Bill watched as Ron sipped his firewhiskey, wincing slightly but trying to hide it. Ron always said yes when it was offered, but he clearly didn't enjoy whiskey.

"All right Ron…"

"Please don't start."

Bill took a deep breath. Merlin help him. Being the oldest had made him relatively patient as far as Weasleys went, but Ron had been testing his limits for months. Nearly a year now, if he was honest.

"Then why are you here Ron?"

Ron scowled and looked up at his brother and Bill once again pleaded to Merlin for strength.

"Look. You're welcome any time, you know that. But you're hiding."

"Well what the hell else am I supposed to do, Bill?"

Before he could answer, Fleur entered the small dining room and huffed when she noticed the tension.

"Still the same argument, mon chere?"

"Oh not you too," Ron whined.

"Oiu, me too. Sulking will not 'elp anysing."

"I should have gone to George's," Ron muttered.

"Why? So you can clean his flat for him and restock his cereal?" Bill asked with a smirk.

Ron rolled his eyes and kicked at his brother's chair, earning a small laugh from Bill. They all took the piss about Ron working for George, but Ron knew it was just to keep up a flow of normalcy; they were all glad Ron was at the shop, helping George remember why he and Fred had set out to build the business in the first place.

Caving, Ron cracked a smile at Bill's jibes.

"Look Ron, I told you before, you can do this in your own time, but I'm worried you're just pretending it's not there," Bill tried again, now that he could tell Ron wasn't as sullen as he looked.

"Oiu," Fleur added, "I sink you come here so often because eet's zee only place you are really you."

Bill still felt a bit guilty really. Ron hadn't exactly chosen to tell him, and he had certainly not chosen to tell Fleur, but what was done was done. As far as he was aware, they were the only people who knew.

When Ron had shown up at shell cottage nearly a year ago, he had been hysterical. There was no other word for it. Bill had been scared shitless actually. He'd never seen Ron in such a state. If it weren't for Fleur, Bill wasn't sure what would have happened that first night. She'd managed to get a calming draught down Ron which had enabled him to at least clarify that Harry and Hermione were alive, and beg Bill not to tell anyone else he was there. He'd gone a bit hysterical again at that point despite the potion, and Fleur had had to force a sleeping draught down him as well.

It had taken a bit to sort Ron out after that. Bill was grateful his little brother had come to him for many reasons, but one of them was that he wasn't sure any of his other family members would have been able to help.

Ron had refused to tell Bill and Fleur anything useful about what he'd been doing with Harry and Hermione, why they'd broken into the ministry, what the point of this whole 'Secret mission from Dumbledore' was. After his potion induced sleep, Ron managed to stay calm, but had been a shell of himself, wandering about the cottage and barely speaking, sometimes nearly trance like. Bill had sat him down after two days to ask what had happened, only for Ron to break down all over again, this time admitting that he'd left his friends.

Bill's first reaction had been anger with his little brother, but Ron was doing such a good job torturing himself over it that Bill had let it go.

He'd managed to get Ron reasonably calmed down without the aid of a potion that time, and Ron's admission had explained his behavior for the most part, but something still wasn't right with his youngest brother.

It was nearly a week before he figured it out. Or at least part of it.

Ron had woken him and Fleur in the middle of the night, screaming from his bed. Obviously alarmed, they'd come to his room to find him screaming in his sleep.

Sort of.

Ron was thrashing wildly, his duvet tangled up around his legs, and his pillows thrown to the floor. He sat up, his eyes wide open and wild, screaming at nothing and everything, before slumping back down into the bed where he continued to thrash.

Bill and Fleur had stood frozen in the doorway for a few minutes, too stunned to act. And besides, what could they do?

As Ron bolted up again, his bare chest illuminated in the moonlight, Bill's eyebrows had skyrocketed into his hairline. Across Ron's chest were several welts, burn marks maybe? That alone wouldn't have been too concerning; Fleur had cleaned up a fair number of wounds when Ron has arrived (though there was very little she could do to help the mangled scarring on his shoulder where he'd obviously been splinched at some point).

But normal wounds didn't _glow_.

"Shit," he muttered, "Fleur…"

"I 'ave never seen…"

"I know," Bill interrupted, "but I have, and I know what to do. Do you have your wand?"

Fleur nodded, her eyes still on Ron, who had stopped screaming but was still staring wildly around the room before falling back into the bed.

"He's… it's dark magic of some sort. I don't really know how to explain it properly, especially since I don't know where the hell he's been or what he's been doing, but all magic leaves traces and dark magic can… leave more than just traces."

Fleur tensed beside her husband, wand gripped tightly.

"'Ow do you know? Is eeh cursed?"

Bill took a deep breath through his nose and shook his head. He'd known the theory for years; it was part of the standard training for any curse breaker, but he'd only seen it in person once in Egypt… his little brother was in for a rough time.

"Not cursed exactly. I've seen it before. It's… it will be like we're detoxing him, only it's magic so…"

Fleur nodded, understanding. Magic was more complicated than toxins. Bill quickly showed her the spell work needed to help untangle the traces of dark magic from Ron's body. It was relatively simple, all things considered, but they would have to make slow work of it over several days. Pulling it all out of him at once would be more traumatic than the actual effects of the lingering darkness.

They'd set to work immediately, each of them standing on either side of Ron's bed.

Bill wished he'd warned Fleur for what he knew would happen next (she'd made this very clear later on). Ron had shot up again, but this time he was lucid, more himself, though no less crazed.

"Bill?! What's happening? I can't… stop it! _STOP IT_!"

Alarmed, Fleur had complied immediately, but with a quick look from Bill, she raised her wand again and continued, tears tracking down her cheeks as Ron started grasping at his neck, trying to clutch at the glowing marks on his chest.

Bill ground his teeth as he studied the marks. He'd not noticed the thinner strands at the back of Ron's neck. Whatever the dark object was, it looked as though Ron had been _wearing_ it.

Finally, Bill nodded to Fleur and they both lowered their wands. Ron was a trembling mess on the bed, his voice hoarse and raw, his hands still opening and closing convulsively at his chest.

"Fleur," Bill murmured, "can you make some tea?"

Fleur had left, understanding the dismissal. As soon as she was gone, Ron tipped to the side of the bed and retched violently. Bill cleaned the mess with a wave of his wand and climbed in behind Ron, not giving a damn that Ron was no longer 6 years old as he pulled Ron's back flush to his chest and wrapped him up.

"What the bloody _fuck_ Bill?" he choked out, barely intelligible between his convulsing tremors and sobs. "What did you_ do_ to me?"

Bill tightened his arms around Ron, willing himself to stay in control of his own emotions.

"You're… Ron you're not well. Try to calm down ok? I'll do my best to explain, but you need to calm down first. You're going to be alright."

Ron had sobbed again at this. Bill had expected it and was once again glad that it was him Ron had come to; knowing what was happening to Ron was the only thing keeping him from blind panic and he didn't think anyone else would have recognized the situation.

"I can't calm down Bill," Ron sobbed, "I can't… nothing makes sense. And it hurts. It fucking _hurts_! Get it off of me!"

Bill only tightened his hold as Ron struggled to break his arms free and grab at the marks on his chest again.

"Shh," Bill soothed gruffly, "there's nothing there Ron. It's a phantom pain; your magic is trying to re-balance itself and it's going to take a few minutes. Just try to relax."

Ron struggled against Bill for another couple of seconds before going nearly limp.

"…useless…" he mumbled, "…can't protect them. Can't help. Want to be near him…can't. Can't tell her. Stupid… useless."

Bill shut his eyes tightly, fighting down the lump in his throat as his little brother terrorized himself. He'd known this part would come. He knew Ron had no real control over what he was saying. It was disorienting to have magic stripped from you, no matter how gently you did it or what kind of magic it was. It had been described to Bill as a type of hypnotism; sometimes the victims would be completely aware of themselves, but other times they'd dip in and out of a trance like state while their own magic sorted itself out and rebalanced. A similar thing happened when Veriteserum was brewed incorrectly, apparently, which had always made Bill wonder whether or not the potion was a bit on the blurred line of the dark arts.

"No Ron," he said firmly, once he trusted his voice again. "They love you. You are not useless, and you have never been stupid."

Ron squirmed again, fighting Bill's arms briefly once again and then going limp.

"He'll think I'm disgusting Bill. You all will. And I lie… lie… LIE. All the time. No one wants a poof for a best mate."

Bill blinked, glad that Ron's back was pressed to his chest so his little brother couldn't see his face properly at the moment. Ron was suddenly struggling again, his head snapping around to look at Bill, his eyes full of terror.

It was all the confirmation Bill needed.

"It's ok, Ron," Bill said firmly, loosening his grip so Ron could look at him properly. He knew it was important Ron hear this. "It's ok."

Ron had held his gaze for a moment before he'd slipped back into the trance state again, thrashing against Bill as he muttered to himself.

"…hate me. They should hate me. Can't… can't figure out how to… why can't I want her? …hurts… hurts… _HURTS_!"

It was another half hour before Ron was no longer dipping in and out of reality. Bill noticed the shift when Ron had gone still, rather than limp, before the shudders of normal tears came, rather than the panic induced sobs he'd endured before.

Bill rocked him slightly, Ron now curled up between Bill's knees like he was 4, rather than the lanky 17 year old he was.

"Was that true Ron?" he'd asked softly.

Ron had tensed immediately, confirming to Bill that Ron knew what he was talking about.

Ron stayed very still for a long time. Long enough that Bill thought maybe he wasn't going to answer, but then he had nodded, not looking at Bill. Bill had nodded in return, gripping Ron a little tighter and repeating what he'd said earlier: "It's ok."

Two hours later, with the slivers of dawn creeping into the kitchen, Bill sat across from Fleur while Ron finally slept upstairs, patiently waiting for Bill to unravel what had just happened.

He sipped the firewhiskey in silence. Fleur wouldn't usually support firewhiskey at 5 in the morning, but all things considered…

"Fleur…"

Taking her cue, Fleur stood and came to her husband, perching herself in his lap and twining her arms around his neck.

Bill breathed in the scent of her, calming himself, and told.

He explained the mess dark magic imprints left a person in mentally. Explained that it would take a few weeks, but Ron would recover once they got all the traces removed. Explained about the after effects, physically and mentally, of having your magic messed with. Explained what Ron had revealed without intending to…

"Ah…"

"What do you mean 'Ah'?"

Fleur looked at her husband with a small smile. "I mean I am not surprised," she said softly. "Very few men continue to act as fools around me after a few days of exposure. Deed you not notice zat your o'zer brothers were fine after a while? Yet Ron…"

"Always fell apart around you, yeah," Bill finished, frowning, "But that…"

"'Ee was faking, mon chere," Fleur said gently.

Bill had nothing to say to that; the revelation had set off a chain reaction in his head. Ron had always seen himself as a little out of place from the rest of his brothers, always desperately trying to be like them. He'd always been more sensitive to the twin's jabs, more quick to side with whatever the majority was, more aware of being called girly if he played with Ginny too much, and above all…

"He never wanted to be seen as different," he said aloud.

Fleur had just smiled that knowing smile again before adding, "'Ave you ever watched 'im watch 'Arry?"

Bill had blanched at this and Fleur had giggled softly.

"Really?" Bill asked, slightly dumbfounded.

Fleur giggled again and shrugged. "You men. You miss so much."

The month that followed was one of the most emotionally draining of Bill's life, a rather bold statement considering he'd been mauled by a werewolf and permanently disfigured the year prior, but it was nothing to what Ron went through. After Bill had explained what was happening to him, all Ron would confirm was that yes, he had been in contact with a dark object, and yes, he had worn it. He'd been worried that Harry and Hermione may be suffering the same effects as him, but Bill thought it unlikely. He couldn't confirm without knowing exactly what the dark object was, but artifacts typically behaved much like a living parasite, and if it had dug its hooks into Ron, it likely didn't have any need to do the same with anyone else.

They'd set a pattern of spellwork every 3 days to unravel the dark residue from Ron; and every time was as awful as the first. Ron did his best at the beginning, but the process itself was disorienting, let alone the dark magic fighting back on top of that. By the time Fleur and Bill finished, Ron would be a whimpering mess, repeating much the same behavior as he had that first night.

At first, Fleur always quietly excused herself to let Bill hold onto Ron for the hour or so of confusion that followed, but eventually, she stayed. Ron was too much of a mess to protest, and she knew Bill needed her.

Ron always revealed more than he wanted to in these moments, and so out of respect to Ron, Fleur and Bill never addressed any of what was said outside of the moment itself, but it meant that they only had pieces of crazed mutterings to go on as far as how Ron felt about his two best friends and leaving them, nevermind his sexuality in general.

And so, nearly a year later, Bill was running out of patience with his little brother and his flat refusal to directly address the topic, despite never denying what they all knew. He drew his attention back to the present, studying Ron carefully as he rolled his eyes.

"I'll ask you again," Ron said with a sigh, "what exactly is it you think I should be doing? It's not like this comes with a manual that explains 'ah, you've admitted you're a poofter, follow these simple steps so everyone else can know too!'"

Bill froze and Fleur let out a tiny gasp, both of them immediately trying to cover their reactions. It didn't matter, Ron was too shocked with himself to notice anyway. He'd gone completely still, and the blush his genes wouldn't let him escape began creeping up his neck. He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to sit up taller in his chair.

"I'm um, I… fucking hell. I can't even say it out loud to you two and you already know!" Ron said, exasperated and trying to ignore how hard his heart was pounding in his ears.

Bill was smirking at him while Fleur was practically beaming.

"You just did Ron," Bill offered.

Ron dropped his head back and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before taking another deep breath.

"I'm gay."

"What was that?" Bill asked, trying to keep the smirk out of his voice.

"I'm gay." Ron said more firmly, pulling his head back from the ceiling to face his brother, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

"Ah yes," Bill said seriously, "there is much to be happy about these days, Voldemort being defeated and all, the Christmas season upon us..."

Fleur shoved Bill none too gently at this, but he kept his eyes on Ron's, who was grinding his teeth slightly.

"No," Ron said, fighting to keep his voice even. "I mean yes, there is a lot to be happy about. But what I mean is…"

Bill just raised his eyebrows innocently at his brother, baiting him further. A small part of him felt a little guilty, but Ron was going to need the practice, and if he couldn't handle having Bill take the mickey then, well, he'd never survive telling George.

"Sod it," Ron snapped, "I mean I'm _GAY_. As in I fancy blokes. As in I have no interest whatsoever in tits. As in I am _very_ interested in shapely biceps, carved abs, and rock hard cocks!"

Fleur snorted in a rare display of uncouth human behavior as Bill raised his eyebrows at the graphic description.

Ron sat back in his chair, arms crossed, a smirk on his face.

"Happy?" he asked smugly.

Bill burst out laughing and before Ron could protest had wrapped his brother up in a rough hug and was ruffling his unruly hair.

"Gerroff me, you brute," Ron mumbled, turning pink but obviously pleased.

"I'm proud of you Ron," Bill said seriously, loosening his grip and giving Ron a proper hug.

"Yeah, yeah," Ron grumbled, extracting himself from Bill and smiling sheepishly at Fleur.

He sat back down, fidgeting slightly with the tablecloth, shifty once again.

"You um… you think Mum will…"

"Mum will be fine with it Ron," Bill said gently, understanding the shift in Ron. "Did you not know about uncle Fabian?"

Ron's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Uncle Fabian was gay as well Ron. I'm not sure he ever properly came out, I was too young to remember really, but…"

"What?" Ron interrupted, clearly stunned by this new revelation. He'd had a gay uncle?

The pain in his chest was familiar; grief was part of them all now, but this ache was different. Ron was only just coming to terms with all of this, but he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to not have to sort it all out on his own. He had no idea how to do any of this. Admitting to himself he liked blokes was just part of this whole bigger mess as far as he was concerned. He understood Bill's excitement at Ron admitting it, but now what? Admitting it was one thing, but telling everyone and dealing with the fall out? And then there was the actual dating blokes part. As if he had the faintest idea how to go about _that. _He'd only recently admitted to himself that becoming a celibate hermit didn't exactly thrill him…

Bill was watching him, trying to decipher the emotions playing across his face. Ron sighed.

"I um… I just wish I'd known. Or that I knew anyone else really that was… well that was like me. I actually really wish that manual existed." he finished quietly.

Bill's brow furrowed in confusion. He had apparently assumed too much. He thought surely Ron had at least some experience here, some sort of terrain in which he'd figured this out. But the more he thought about it, when had Ron had a chance to do anything relatively normal as far as growing up was concerned since he started Hogwarts?

"But you do know someone like you Ron," Fleur interjected, clearly confused.

Ron and Bill both looked at Fleur with furrowed brows.

"Mon Dieu," Fleur muttered as she rose from the table and disappeared into the sitting room, returning with a copy of Witch Weekly. "Percy's best friend?" she tried, clearly exasperated by how unobservant the men in her life were, "'E as been over for dinner before…? Non?" she pressed, seeing the looks of confusion pass between the two brothers.

"Oliver?" they said together, both clearly confused.

"Oiu," she said simply, dropping the copy of Witch Weekly in front of them.

Ron had to keep his features carefully controlled. On the cover was Oliver Wood, clad in his unclasped and open Puddlemere robes, trousers low on his hips, the rest of his kit removed. The image flexed for the camera before laughing shyly at the action, making Oliver seem a lot more playful than Ron knew him to be in real life. He was too distracted at first by the definition of Wood's abs to notice the headline blazing across the photo: 'Sorry ladies, this one plays for the other team!'

"I'll be damned," Bill muttered, getting there faster than Ron, "Oliver Wood, who knew? Well Ron, at least you know Percy's not going to care one way or the other."

* * *

Ron shuffled through the green space a couple blocks from Grimmauld place. It couldn't be called a park really, but it was close. Ron liked London most days, but sometimes he felt himself missing the properly open spaces of the Burrow.

He'd made it a habit to apparate a few blocks from home so he could take his time and think on the walk. He usually needed to think after visiting with Bill and Fleur.

Part of him was grateful the damned locket had done what it had; he wasn't sure he'd ever have found the courage to admit to himself what he really wanted, let alone anyone else. But as the haze of grief and anxiety the end of the war had brought started lifting, Ron knew he couldn't pretend anymore.

He had thought, briefly, that he'd had it wrong his whole life. The locket had twisted him up pretty badly, and when it had manifested with Hermione choosing Harry over him, he'd let himself believe that it had known better. It had seen inside his soul, hadn't it? It must have known that it was really Hermione he wanted, and not… well Harry, in this particular example.

That hadn't lasted long though. He'd eventually asked Bill about it, who had gently explained to him that while the locket may have been sentient, it wasn't omniscient; it had read Ron's confusion over his two best friends and conjured up what it could. It could just as easily have shown Harry choosing Hermione as its final curtain call, and in some ways it had. Ron couldn't decide which would have been worse, the locket outing him to Harry, or the current situation he was in.

Ron tightened his coat against the December chill. Hermione was arriving home from Hogwarts tomorrow and he'd resolved within himself to put things to right, but he felt sick everytime he thought about it. He didn't want to hurt her, but he'd played this out 100 times in his head and there was just no way to prevent it.

It hurt him too.

The truth was they weren't actually a couple, despite what everyone assumed. He had at least been honest enough with her, and with himself, not to allow that. She'd assumed it was to do with Fred, which wasn't completely untrue either, so he didn't feel too guilty letting her believe it. The first weeks after the war had ended he had needed his two best friends in a way he never had before, and he was pretty sure the feeling was mutual, so they'd left things status quo for the most part.

But she knew it was more than that now. They had exchanged owls the whole term, and he'd done his best to hint that things weren't going to work between them without sounding like a complete prick, but he owed her this conversation in person.

It was why he'd gone to Bill tonight, and he had a feeling Bill had known it. He'd needed to say it out loud, officially come out, if he was going to use the proper term for it. Bill and Fleur were a safe place to try it out, practice saying the words knowing he wouldn't be… what? Judged? Rejected?

He didn't actually think Hermione was going to judge him. In her case, it was knowing he was going to break her heart that made it such a shit situation.

And then there was Harry. Merlin, he was in such deep shit there.

Over the last few months, things had become decidedly weird between him and his best mate. Ron went back and forth almost daily as to whether or not he was taking advantage.

He'd learned many years ago that Harry didn't really understand social norms. At least not like kids that came from normal households that didn't abuse the daylights out of you. Hermione had connected the dots first, of course she had, but he wasn't clueless. He'd noticed some of the social oddities with Harry as well, like how for years, he would tense up anytime he was touched in any kind of friendly way, or how he was obviously uncomfortable changing in the dorms with the other guys present. Little things, but noticeable to the two people closest to him.

He and Hermione had been covertly covering Harry's oddities since about third year. Ron by subtly letting Harry know what was or wasn't acceptable for teenage blokes to say or do around each other, Hermione by being rather overly tactile with Harry. They'd both done their part on that front, to be fair. Ron had tried not to overanalyze why he'd been so on board with that particular venture.

He laughed at himself, thinking the cat was certainly about to be out of the bag there.

So recently, when Harry had become something of his personal security blanket, Ron wasn't sure where the lines were anymore. He tried to remind himself that everything physical between himself and Harry had been initiated by Harry first, which was fairly significant considering that Harry almost never initiated physical contact in any setting. When he was being really honest with himself though, it wasn't just the physical side of things. The new physical intimacy wasn't strange at all in the context of the new emotional intimacy between the pair of them.

And genuinely, it wasn't sexual _at all_. They had both been such a train wreck emotionally after the war that sex was the last thing Ron was thinking of when Harry had first held onto him as he sobbed out the demons of a nightmare. He just worried that Harry maybe didn't realize that it wasn't exactly normal for two blokes to hold each other the way they sometimes did. Or hell, it wasn't even particularly normal for two blokes to talk to each other the way they sometimes did in those moments either.

He supposed his brothers could get away with holding each other the way he and Harry did, under the circumstances, and really, Harry was as good as one of his brothers.

Ron kicked angrily at a pebble as he walked. This is where things always got a bit murky for him. It was all well and good to justify his behavior with Harry as brotherly, but outside of the moments of mutual comfort that were decidedly non sexual, Ron generally wanted to snog Harry's face off, which was decidedly _not_ brotherly. Not to mention they were currently sharing a bed, which was a level of strange that did Ron's head in anytime he spent too much time thinking about it.

Sighing, Ron looked up at the building as Number 12 began to appear in front of him. The bed sharing thing also wasn't sexual, but he'd be a liar if he claimed he didn't wish it was.

After tomorrow, it wouldn't matter. He was fairly certain that the best he could hope for was that things would go back to how they'd been when they were 15 or so. Good mates; an occasional slap on the back but otherwise a healthy distance. He'd allowed himself this small bubble of hope when he'd realized that Percy and Oliver had been best mates since as long as Ron could remember, and as far as he knew, still were. He could probably fill a book with all of the questions he suddenly had for Percy.

Worst case though, Harry would hex his balls off and never speak to him again.

He really hoped Harry would at least leave his balls intact. He had a feeling deciding to live his life as a gay man without his balls would be a bit of a letdown.

He blinked, realizing he'd just admitted, even if only in his own head, that he was planning to live his life as a gay man. Not that he had any idea how to do that exactly, but he supposed it was a good thing to be settled on before he broke Hermione's heart, possibly his mother's as well, subjected himself to a lifetime of having the mickey taken out of him by his brothers, and thoroughly disgusting his best friend.

He supposed this was what he had been working up to for some time now, but some days he still hadn't been sure he was actually going to do… this. He rolled his eyes at himself. He was still struggling to use the words in his own head which wasn't the best sign he was really ready for the conversations he knew he'd have to have over the next few days.

"Right Weasley," he muttered to himself, "You're gay, and you're coming out. May as well start using the words."

He pushed the gate open and entered the house, pleased when the scent of beef stew hit his nostrils, rather than the lingering scent of doxycide that had plagued the foyer for the better part of a month.

"Ron?"

"Yeah it's me mate," Ron called as he began shedding his winter gear.

"Best hurry up before I eat all of this," Harry called from the kitchen.

Ron trudged in, thanking Kreacher as the old elf ladled Ron a steaming bowl of beef stew.

"I'm sure Fleur would be offended to know that you come here and eat again after I know she's fed you a proper meal," Harry laughed, watching as Ron attacked the bowl with all his usual grace.

"What Fleur doesn't know won't hurt her," Ron replied pointedly.

Harry just grinned as he turned his attention back to his own bowl. This was usually his favorite part of the day. Just him and Ron, comfortable banter, quidditch over the wireless, when it was on, and the overall sense of _normal _about it.

"You should come with me next time," Ron reminded Harry, who usually bowed out of the increasingly common impromptu dinners at Bill and Fleur's. He felt a bit like the Weasley brothers needed those dinners without him intruding. "You know Fleur doesn't mind."

Harry nodded and waved his spoon in a 'yeah, yeah, yeah' motion, to which Ron chucked a piece of his bread crust at Harry in response.

"Oh, by the way," Ron said suddenly, turning to rustle in the pockets of his magenta work robes, "Have you seen this?"

Hoping desperately that he'd managed to make it sound convincingly casual, Ron produced the copy of Witch Weekly with Oliver's chiseled abs on prominent display, sliding it across the table to Harry, who immediately began choking on his stew.

Eyes watering as he coughed, Harry waved Ron off and took a slow sip of water.

"Sorry, wrong pipe," he wheezed.

It was a dead lie, but how the bloody hell else was he supposed to react when his best friend, who he'd recently realized was just about the most desirable human on the planet (as far as Harry was concerned anyway) started chucking photos of half naked men around!

For the last week, Harry had been desperately trying to get his head on straight, no pun intended. He didn't want to risk freaking Ron out, and he'd barely gotten himself used to the idea that yes, men did it for him, thank you very much, so he was fairly certain discussing half naked quidditch players was not on the list of topics he could successfully navigate at the moment.

"So what's this then?" He asked at last, picking the magazine up and trying for all he was worth to behave like a normal human, preferably a normal male human, but he'd take what he could at present. His eyebrows shot up as he read the headline. "Other team?"

"Yeah," Ron responded, suddenly finding it easier to look at his soup, rather than at his best mate. "Did you know?"

"No," Harry replied honestly. He wanted to rip the article open immediately and find out just how open his former captain had been on the topic, but he also wasn't sure what other types of photos may be inside, and didn't trust himself to find out with Ron sitting across from him. "Is that uh… is that a problem?" he asked, trying, but mostly failing, to keep the accusation out of his voice.

"What?" Ron asked, alarmed, "No! No, not at all. I just, I was surprised is all. He and Percy have been best mates since, well, probably even before Hogwarts actually, and I never knew."

"Percy and Oliver are best mates?" Harry asked, genuinely surprised by this information. While he'd never felt ostracized from his teammates his first two years on the team, the Gryffindor quidditch team were a tight knit group before Harry had come along, and Oliver had seemed considerably older, despite only being a few years above Harry. Now that he thought about it though, Harry had actually never spoken to Oliver, or seen him much for that matter, outside of the context of quidditch.

"Mm," Ron confirmed, back to eating his second helping, "Seems weird, I know. But Percy's not actually half bad on a broom if I'm honest, though don't ever tell him I said that. He loves quidditch as much as the rest of us really. And I think Oliver somehow managed loads of NEWTs, so they're not worlds apart."

Everything Ron was saying was true, but he was also hoping that Harry was somehow picking up his hidden meaning, that it wouldn't be so weird for two people to be best mate's, even if one of those mates happened to like men… and also happened to _not_ be Hermione.

Harry meanwhile was completely distracted by the idea of quidditch obsessed Oliver Wood being best mates with… well anything that wasn't a quaffle really, let alone actually having any sort of… sexuality.

"Percy's fine with this then, right?" he asked suddenly, snapping out of his musing when he realized this was actually a prime moment to get a sense of Ron's feelings on the topic. "I mean, can't be any weirder than your best mate dating your other best mate, can it?" he said with a grin.

Ron frowned, momentarily distracted from fishing into what Harry may think about homosexuality.

"What?"

"You and Hermione, you prat. Obviously I'm plenty happy for you, but it is a bit weird sometimes."

Ron just stared at Harry, wondering how in Merlin's name there'd been such a miss here, especially considering how much they'd actually _talked _about their lives in the last 6 months.

"What?" Harry asked, confused by the look on Ron's face.

"Um. Harry, Hermione and I, we aren't… we aren't a couple."

Harry stared at Ron for a full 10 seconds before he burst out laughing.

"Not a couple? Really Ron? Come on. What the bloody hell was all that last spring then? I don't care what you guys are calling it, but for goodness' sake, get on with it already!"

Ron continued to just stare at Harry, whose grin suddenly faltered at the look on Ron's face.

"Er… Ron? Sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"It's ok," Ron cut him off, "I just… I thought you knew?"

"Knew what Ron?" Harry asked, bewildered. "You spent the better part of… what've I missed?"

Ron wasn't ready to have this conversation yet, and even if he was, he owed it to Hermione to explain it to her first. Resigning himself, he let out a long sigh.

"I… have some things to tell you Harry, but I need to tell Hermione first."

"Ok…? Are you alright? Are you sure… ya know, you don't want to talk to me about it first?"

The implication being 'did he want to vet whatever crazy thing he might be about to tell Hermione with Harry first before he bollixed everything up again.' Ron knew that's what Harry meant, however tactfully he was trying to say it.

"I'm ok," Ron started, then changed his mind, deciding Harry would see through him anyway. "Well, I'm not great. But I'll survive. I… it's not going to be pretty Harry, I'm sorry."

He dropped his gaze back to his stew, suddenly not hungry anymore.

"Whatever it is Ron, it'll work out," Harry said at last, wanting to support Ron despite the urge to punch him for potentially hurting Hermione, and the twinge of jealousy that he apparently could talk to Hermione about whatever this was and not him. It had been awhile, he realized suddenly, since he'd had to share Ron's attention with the female member of their trio. "Besides," he added, smirking, "it's not like you've murdered somebody… not recently at least."

Ron snorted and rolled his eyes at Harry. It was a cheap shot, but it worked nearly every time. It was a perverse way to make light of what had happened at the final battle, but it helped if they kept a sense of humor about it. It hadn't always been funny. Hermione and Ron had spent the better part of the summer beating the label of "murderer" out of Harry's head; doing away with Voldemort wasn't exactly the same thing as murdering someone. In the end, Ron had lost his temper and demanded to know whether Harry considered Ron a murderer for taking down Greyback. He hadn't realized that Harry didn't know about Ron's role in that corner of the battle. It had settled the matter quickly.

"Maybe not," Ron conceded. "Still…"

"Really Ron, whatever it is, we'll sort it out, yeah?"

Ron nodded, hoping it was true.

* * *

The steam from the Hogwarts Express billowed over Harry as he stepped through the barrier, causing him to smile despite the pounding in his ears.

"Alright there Harry?" Ron asked, managing to sound casual even though Harry knew full well what he actually meant.

"Fine Ron. Do you see them yet?"

He'd needed to come today. First, because he desperately missed Hermione and felt it would make him an appalling friend if he didn't greet her off the Express after her first ever term at Hogwarts without him and Ron, but second because he needed to practice handling his anxiety if he was serious about joining the aurors next September. Though he'd only ever had a handful of actual panic attacks, they'd almost always been triggered by a crowd, which Ron knew.

"There they are," Ron said, waving an arm above the crowd and signalling for his mother to head further up the platform.

Harry was eternally grateful that Ron knew him as well as his did when it came to situations like this- one of the benefits of the odd shift in their friendship recently, he supposed. Ron had somehow figured out the subtle balance of making his presence known, grounding Harry, without actually having to touch him. They'd both learned the hard way that touching him while he was in the midst of an actual panic attack was good for no one.

He took a deep breath, following the path Ron's long legs and wide shoulders carved through the crowd as he headed towards his family. Just as they reached the small clearing, he was assaulted by familiar bushy hair and the general mayhem that Weasley family greetings brought on.

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione practically squealed, pulling both of them in shamelessly for a three way hug.

Harry laughed and Ron let out an 'oof' as he was forced to bend nearly double to come down to Hermione's height. But they allowed her the rare moment of exuberance. Not being together for this long had been strange and oddly difficult on all of them, and he was just as glad as she was that for the moment, they were exactly as they should be.

"Alright woman! Yeesh..." Ron said gruffly, but Harry knew he was smiling.

They broke apart to exchange hugs and greetings, and he was relieved when Ginny didn't hesitate to accept his embrace.

"How are you Harry?" she asked quietly in his ear.

"Pretty good Gin, honest. And you?"

She pulled away from him and nodded, smiling.

Unexpected relief flooded through him. He hadn't been sure what to expect, given the way they'd left things, but it was with no small sense of gratitude that he realized she'd confirmed for him in less than 2 minutes that they were going to be just fine.

"Alright people, let's get the bloody hell off this platform."

"_George Weasley_, language!"

"Oh hang on, where's Arnold's cage gone?"

"Percy dear, can you shrink the trunks please."

"Crookshanks, no! Arg… bloody cat!"

Harry laughed. He couldn't help it. Few things felt more like home to him than this, and it further bolstered his confidence that his recent issue with crowds was in fact, surmountable. He glanced at Ron, who despite the fact he was bent over speaking quietly to Hermione, was somehow still keeping himself between Harry and the other people pressing around them. Harry wasn't sure how consciously Ron did it, but it made Harry's chest ache a little to know Ron paid attention to these things, and managed to do it discreetly.

He and Hermione were having a proper whispered conversation now, and Harry forced himself to look away.

George sauntered up to him and draped an arm over Harry's shoulders.

"Come on Harry, we'd better lead the way or we'll all die here on this platform. Let's _GO_ Weasleys!"

An hour later found the Weasley clan crammed into The Burrow for a family dinner, Molly thrilled to have the house full, even if only for a few hours. Things were relatively normal, Hermione and Ginny filling everyone in on their studies, the policies put in place to accommodate so many 7th year students, Hermione's duties as Head Girl, and Ginny's as quidditch captain.

Harry and Ron had stayed fairly glued to Hermione's side, as they didn't have much time to spend together before Hermione went off to join her parents. She was due to come to the burrow for New Year's, but Ron didn't know how she was going to feel about that after today.

He'd asked Hermione if they could grab a coffee before she headed off to her parents' and they were currently shuffling through the small playground in Ottery St Catchpole.

When he'd decided he was going to properly explain to Hermione what happened between them, at least on his end of things, Ron had spent weeks thinking through how he'd go about it. He'd planned how to present it without making it sound like he didn't care about her, or think she was pretty, or that he'd been leading her on. He'd even realized that the whole Lavender debacle would be a point in his favor for once! He'd never have used Hermione the way he, admittedly, had used Lavender.

He had considered how much to tell her about the locket; whether or not he'd just be fishing for sympathy if he told her about the whole 'Dark Poisoning' part, or whatever the hell Bill called it.

He'd made a list, an actual quill to parchment list, of all the questions she might come up with, and had thought out his answers.

At the end of the day though, he had no idea why he'd bothered. There was no way to script this, and let's face it, he had never been eloquent.

"I know you didn't bring me here for just a coffee Ron," Hermione said, never one to beat around the bush. They'd only barely purchased their flat whites, a treat Ron had found himself rather obsessed with since their trip to Australia, before Hermione had stopped and taken a seat on a bench, clearly gathering herself for whatever was about to come.

Ron sighed, joining her on the bench, trying to sort out how he was going to do this.

"It's ok you know," she said softly. "I… I know you don't want to take things anywhere with... us."

Ron leaned forward, forearms on his knees, hands wrapped around his coffee cup to keep his hands warm, all of his carefully practiced declarations evaporating.

"You…" he paused to clear his throat, willing himself to get through the next part. She was giving him an easy out, and he couldn't let himself take it. "You deserve to know why."

They sat in silence for a moment, Hermione patiently waiting for Ron to continue before finally breaking the silence.

"And?" She prompted.

Ron sat back against the bench, still looking straight ahead, rather than towards Hermione. He'd really thought he could do this…

"I wanted to," he said honestly, angry, but not altogether shocked to find he already had tears in his eyes. He plowed ahead. It was now or never. "I… I really truly thought that… that I could. That it was what I wanted. That… fucking hell Hermione. I'm so sorry."

Silence again. He hated when she was this quiet. He swallowed thickly, trying to at least keep his tears to the masculine type rather than the full on sob-fest type. He felt like screaming. He'd _wanted_ this. Wanted the freedom to be who he'd always known he was, but this was a hell of a price to pay for it.

Hermione reached over and laced her fingers in the hand not holding onto his coffee and Ron had to take several deep breaths to keep himself in check. He didn't think he deserved her kindness; not right now.

They sat that way for awhile as Ron collected himself enough to continue. Just as he took a deep breath to elaborate, Hermione spoke, so softly he almost didn't hear her.

"It's Harry, isn't it."

It wasn't a question.

Shock washed over him like a bucket of ice water. How in all seven hells… just… _how_?

"… what?" he croaked.

"He's important to us both Ron, and let's face it, he's always been our strongest common interest."

This was true. Much of the time he spent with Hermione one to one was often centered around ways to make sure Harry didn't die. A little macabre maybe, but there it was.

"Besides," she continued, "you can tell the whole idea of us as a couple makes him a little uncomfortable. I don't… I don't want to risk my friendship with him either and..."

Wait… what? Ron turned to face Hermione, confusion etched into his brow as he met her eyes for the first time in hours. She thought… she didn't… oh buggering hell…

"Hermione," Ron cut her off, setting his coffee down and reaching over to take both of her hands in his. Gathering his Gryffindor courage, he forced himself to look at her. "It's… it _is_ Harry. But… but not because of our friendship. He'd… he'd get over us being together if it came down to it. It's… It's not _just_ Harry… it's..."

Hermione tilted her head as she gazed back at Ron in what he knew was her thinking pose. Her brilliant mind was currently turning over all possible interpretations. He didn't want her to come to any more wrong conclusions.

"I'm gay, Hermione."

He winced as he said it, wishing he wouldn't but unable to stop himself.

Hermione, for her part, went stock still for a moment before pulling her hands out of his, her eyebrows lost in her hairline.

"Oh."

Ron just waited. What else could he do?

"...Oooh…" Hermione repeated, and once again Ron could practically hear the gears whirring in her brain before she suddenly burst into gales of laughter. Ron wrapped his arms around himself, not at all seeing the humor in the situation.

"I'm sorry!" Hermione said frantically, realizing her mistake and pulling his hands back to her own. "Oh god, Ron, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it like that, honest! I just…" and she threw an arm out and her head back in a giant shrug, earning a tiny smile from Ron.

"I know it's a bit um…"

"Unexpected?" Hermione suggested, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Yeah…"

"It's not really."

Ron snorted at this. "Yeah? So what was that reaction then, if not shock induced hysteria?"

Hermione sobered fully, turning to face Ron properly as she brought their joined hands to her lips and kissed his knuckles.

"I'm sorry Ron, truly. I shouldn't have laughed. I wasn't laughing _at_ you. I'd just never considered it before, ever, and when you said it I just… all the pieces fell together and I just thought... of course."

"Of course? Of _course?_" as prepared as he thought he had been for this, Ron was quickly realizing that he was in fact, not. He could feel the tears burning at the back of his eyes again and he had no patience for them right now.

"Shh," she soothed, "It's ok Ron."

Ron stood, too pent up to stay still. "How is it 'ok' Hermione? How!? I…I've fucked everything up! How the bloody hell are you so... _understanding_? I love you Hermione, fuck knows I _do_. I just wish I could make myself love you the _right_ way." The tears were falling now, but he'd expected it this time and was too angry to care. Besides, he'd had to accept months ago that his post-war self was a bit of a leaky faucet.

Hermione stood up too, tears in her own eyes, but something else as well. Ron recognized the blaze of fury a beat too late…

"_Ronald Weasley_," she hissed, her tone the only one Ron knew to be as effective as his mother's in shutting him up. "There is never, _ever_, a wrong way to love someone. How you love me, how… how I'm pretty certain you love Harry… it's _not. wrong._ Do you understand me?"

She waited, fully expecting him to confirm that he understood.

He nodded slowly.

"Good." She crossed over to him and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his sternum. He brought his arms up around her, realizing she had let the tears lose as she trembled in his embrace.

"Don't you _ever_ make it sound like you regret the way you love me again Ronald Weasley, I mean it."

"I promise," he answered, leaning over awkwardly to wrap her up tighter. "I'm sorry… for all of it."

"I know."

"I never meant…"

"Shh, Ron, I know."

It was well past midnight when Ron finally returned to London, emotionally exhausted but otherwise lighter. He hadn't lost her, his brilliant friend. He certainly didn't deserve her either, but she made it clear that she wasn't going anywhere. She would need some time, she had been honest with him about that, but by the end of it, he genuinely believed they would be ok.

You couldn't battle a mountain troll together at age 11 and not be, now could you?

"Everything alright?"

Ron nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't realized Harry was awake as he'd slipped into the giant bed they shared.

"Alright as it's going to be for now," Ron answered honestly.

Harry rolled over to look at him properly, squinting without his glasses. "Want to talk about it?"

"Tomorrow," Ron promised.

"Mmk," Harry mumbled sleepily as he rolled back over, his back to Ron.

Ron watched him for awhile, debating whether or not there was any point in planning what to say to Harry when morning came.

It was a very long time before Ron finally fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:** In which family is both exasperating and wonderful, and recovering from a war is hard work.

* * *

"You're alive!" Harry greeted Ron cheerfully, shoving a plate of toast and bacon towards his best mate.

Run grunted in response, sitting down heavily at the dining table as he wordlessly began loading up on bacon. He'd barely fallen asleep before he had to be up again, managing to brush his teeth and his increasingly long hair, but very little else before shrugging into his magenta work robes and stumbling his way downstairs.

Harry watched his friend, no longer smiling. Ron looked like hell.

"Mate…" he started.

"I can't talk about it now Harry. I know I promised. But I've got to get to the shop and… sorry. I'll tell you everything I just…"

"Woah, woah, woah. That wasn't what I was going to say Ron, jeez."

Ron slumped in his seat, but Harry could still clearly see how tightly wound up he was.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"'S ok. I was just going to suggest that maybe you take a day off. I know it's the holiday season, but honestly Ron, you don't look well."

"I can't skip today. It's the first day Hogwarts' students are back," Ron answered, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to remove the exhaustion from them. "Besides, I don't think R&R is really going to sort me out at the minute… sorry," he added, seeing the perplexed look on Harry's face. "I know I keep on acting like…" he waved his hand around his head, indicating what, Harry wasn't too sure.

"You're being a right weirdo mate, I'll give you that, but that's not particularly new."

Ron chuckled and Harry felt relieved that at least Ron still knew how to smile.

"Look, I know George asked Lee and Angelina to help out today given the student rush. Make him let you off before closing so you can come home, have a proper meal, and get to bed at a reasonable hour. If you want to talk about whatever this," he waved his arms around in an exaggerated version of Ron's own hand waving, earning an eye roll from the red head, "is, then we can. If not, fine. I'll be here whenever you… just whenever."

Ron gave Harry a small smile in gratitude and returned, a bit sheepishly, to his toast.

"Here, this might help," Harry said, flicking his wand over a pair of mugs. "I finally figured out how to get the milk right."

Harry slid the mug over, revealing a perfect looking flat white.

"Yes!" Ron perked up, "How'd you do it?"

Harry showed Ron the charm to get the proper froth on the milk, the two of them quickly easing back into the comfortable companionship of their friendship until Ron forced himself up and over to the hearth.

The comfort was not to last. Ron had barely been in the shop for an hour before he was grinding his teeth and snapping at customers. Part of it was the genuine, mad rush of pre-holiday shoppers and recently released Hogwarts students, but the larger part was that Ron was on edge; exhausted on all levels. The peace he'd settled into the night before had quickly evaporated and he was now struggling to keep a hold of himself, alternating between relief and dread over what the week held for him.

He made it through the morning without any major mishaps, if you didn't count the dressing down he'd given some 5th year Ravenclaws for ruining a rather complicated display of charmed baubles, which Ron didn't- the gits should have known better.

After lunch was a different story, and on the fourth occasion Angelina needed to swoop in and rescue a customer from his wrath, George grabbed Ron none too gently by the shoulder and hauled him off to the tiny office behind the tills.

"What the hell Ron! What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," Ron snapped, "She was just…"

"Ron," George cut him off, "She asked where the sweets were."

"AND THERE'S A WHOLE GIANT BLOODY WALL OF THEM RIGHT BEHIND HER… IN _BRIGHT NEON COLOURS!_"

George blinked, surprised at the outburst, before crossing his arms and staring pointedly at his youngest brother.

Ron, for his part, had the decency to look at least a little ashamed of himself.

"Care to try that again?" George asked, his tone even.

It had taken Ron a while to adjust to George, and not just to working for him. George took the business seriously and it showed while he was running the shop, which was a new world in itself, but George was also learning how to be… just George. They were _all_ still learning how to tread those waters, George included.

Ron suddenly felt very overwhelmed. His nerves had been raw all day (he preferred 'nerves' to 'emotions') and he was wound so tightly he was fairly certain he'd actually hurt himself shelving inventory earlier. He felt ill, which he was vaguely aware was stress induced. And now George was looking at him in that 'way-too-serious-for-George' way and…

"Fuck," he bit out, wiping angrily at his eyes with the heel of his palms. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

Alarmed, George uncrossed his arms and stepped towards Ron before pausing, not actually sure what he was supposed to do, so instead settled for shoving his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Err…?"

"I'm sorry," Ron bit out angrily, "I'm fucking SORRY! Merlin, this is all I ever do anymore! Apologize and bloody cry."

George was out of his depth here. He spent most days focused solely on the shop in order to keep himself from the bottom of a firewhiskey bottle. Ron had been pretty pivotal in ensuring his sobriety, truth be told, and it wasn't that George begrudged Ron whatever grief or… whatever the hell this was… but it was clearly a job for Bill. Or maybe even Ginny.

Ron was pacing the tiny office now, and he looked a little green, making George wonder if he should conjure a sick bin.

"You know how everyone says you should be true to yourself George?" Ron ranted, raking his hands through his hair as he paced. "Well bollocks to that! Fucking shit, that is. Unless maybe your true self is a… a billionaire philanthropist or… or an international quidditch star or something. But if your true self is a scarred up, weepy, stressed out _homo_, than you might want to fucking check again!"

George just continued to stare as Ron kept up his pacing, angrily wiping away tears as he at last stopped and turned to face George.

"Sorry… what?"

Ron leaned up against the desk and dropped his head into his hands.

"You heard me," Ron ground out, not looking up.

George shouldn't be smiling. He knew that. He recognized that now was not the moment for such things. But by Godrick, Christmas had come early! He took a deep breath, forcing himself to fight down his grin, reminding himself that Ron was clearly not ok at the moment, and of all the times Ron had shown up for him in the last several months when he had certainly not been ok himself. When he finally knew he could trust himself to speak, he cleared his throat, causing Ron to look up at him through his fringe, his head still hung low.

"I think you may want to refine your speech a bit before you give it to mum. There were an awful lot of swear words in there Ronnie."

Ron looked up at him properly now, his expression making it clear that he was not impressed.

"Is that all you have to say?"

George grinned. "Not even close."

Ron winced and dropped his head again to wipe his face on his shoulder.

"You have just given me the gift of a lifetime of entertainment," George started, putting his palm up to quell Ron's sputtering before the indignation could turn into words, "and so, I offer you the following bargain: I will give you two weeks of reprieve. No taking the mick, no sly comments, no pranks involving overly large sausages, nothing. That will get you through to the end of the holidays, then after that… it's open season little brother."

"Open season… right. So…"

"I'll also allow a three strike policy," George interrupted, realizing Ron was actually a bit more panicked by the open season comment than he'd intended. "If at any point I cross a line, just tell me it's a strike, and I'll drop it then and there. No questions asked."

Ron stared at George for what felt like ages before finally responding; he felt a bit off balance with George's… generosity? He supposed for George, generosity was the right word here. He was also struggling with the fact that George had just taken the news and let it roll, no questions asked.

"Five strikes," he said at last, "I have a feeling you're going to need extra help finding where the line is. Also, extra consideration whenever Hermione is in the room please, at least for awhile. It's not fair on her."

George raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on the Hermione line while he considered Ron's counter offer.

"Deal," he agreed. "Now, go home Ron," his voice softened considerably. "Take the rest of the day and tomorrow off."

George put a hand on Ron's shoulder and squeezed, offering him the small bit of comfort in recognition that Ron was genuinely having a rough time at the minute.

Ron nodded his thanks, not trusting himself to speak, and apparated out of the office before he could make a further spectacle of himself.

Once he was certain he was gone, George let out a low whistle and shook his head before stepping back out onto the shop floor.

* * *

Harry grit his teeth and told himself, for the 100th time, to relax. The whole point of this stupid class was to relax. They called it meditation or something but really, it was just a class to teach you how to chill the hell out.

That didn't seem likely today. Not with his best friend throwing around magazines with half dressed men on the cover, and potentially hurting his other best friend, and otherwise behaving strangely in general the last few days.

He'd joined the class at Ron's suggestion. Ron even came with him when his schedule allowed it. It was hosted by the Aurors, who were apparently required to go through the course at least once a year to help them manage anxiety, job related or otherwise.

He grudgingly admitted that it did help. He was glad Ron had all but forced him into it because he likely wouldn't have done it on his own.

"Give it up Mr. Potter. You're fooling no one."

Harry opened his eyes and glared at the instructor, Thelma. He knew from experience this meant he'd be forced to stay after the class to speak to her one on one, which is exactly where he found himself 15 minutes later.

"Mr. Potter…"

"_Harry_. Come on, Thelma."

Thelma huffed and pursed her lips in what Harry knew was her patience gathering tactic. Harry has been asked to stay behind enough times to consider their relationship friendly. Thelma wasn't an Auror, but she worked closely with the Corp, heading up the recently created 'mental and emotional health services' department.

"_Harry_ then. You know what I'm going to say."

"So then you don't need to say it."

"I _do_. Merlin, are you always such a stubborn git?"

Harry looked up abruptly, a grin creeping its way across his face.

"My, my Thelma. Has my charm cracked through your professional veneer at last?"

Thelma slumped back into her chair and threw her arms up in exasperation as Harry just continued to smile innocently at her. She wasn't too much older than him, and she had a big job. She reminded him of Percy sometimes; overly professional in an attempt to cover her lack of experience.

She was good though. She had managed to make the department's existence not only normalized within the Auror Corps, but useful and productive. Mental health wasn't nearly as taboo as it once had been, and Thelma intended to remove the stigma entirely.

One Mr. Harry Potter's stubbornness was not going to stop her, savior of the wizarding world or not.

"Listen Mr. Po… Harry. You _need_ to do this. Or you need to consider a different career path, period. I know what the training course requires and right now, you wouldn't pass it."

Harry squirmed at that. Part of him knew she was right, but he was nothing if not stubborn. Besides, his anxiety had been so much better lately! And the last panic attack he'd had was ages ago. He was only keyed up right now because… well, he'd rather not think about all the scenarios he'd began playing out, only partly against his will, involving a certain red head he shared a bed with, in front of Thelma.

"Harry," Thelma continued, when it was clear Harry wasn't going to give in so easily, "You are a gifted wizard, that much is obvious, and you clearly deserve a spot amongst Wizarding Britain's finest peace keeping organization, but believe me when I tell you, you are not ready for it."

"I never said I was," Harry spoke up, surprised by this. "I just need some time to…"

"_No_ Harry. These things do take time, I agree with you there, and if you wanted to be an accountant, I'd leave you alone about it. But I can tell you are not giving up on being an Auror and it's different. You need to expose yourself now, in a safe and controlled context, to the things that trigger your anxiety, learn how to navigate it. Otherwise you risk _not _navigating it when you are in a very real and very dangerous situation."

"I'll be fine Thelma," Harry declared, having made this speech several times before.

"It's not you I'm worried about! Well, I am. But I am also worried about the liability you will be on whatever team you're assigned…"

"What?" Harry cut her off, perplexed.

"Your team Harry. No one goes into the field alone. You're assigned a partner, but you're also part of a team when you're involved in larger field operations… how did you think this worked?" She had him. Thelma could see it.

"So… I don't go to this, this exposure course thing, I might be a risk to my team?"

It took all of Thelma's willpower not to thwack the wizarding world's savior across the head.

"You tell me," she said evenly. "You're in the middle of an op and need to provide cover fire your partner, but you're too busy trying to remember how breathing works…"

"I get it," Harry said hurriedly, feeling rather thick for not considering this earlier. He'd been much more preoccupied with avoiding anything that could make him feel the way the panic attacks did to consider the impact this would have on other people. "How do I sign up?"

Thelma raised an eyebrow and studied him for a moment. Was it really that simple? She'd been trying to wear Harry Potter down for weeks now and the comment about the danger he'd potentially put others in was all it took? Well, she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, or whatever the muggle saying was.

"I'll owl you the form."

An hour later found Harry back at Grimmauld place, scowling at the form that had arrived to the house ahead of him, wishing Thelma wasn't so much like Hermione in the whole 'being right all the damn time' department.

He plowed ahead with the form, figuring it was best to just get it over with before he lost his nerve, reminding himself he was lucky to be allowed to do this through the department attached specifically to the aurors.

Loads of emotional health support services had cropped up after the war, and he happened to know Hermione and Ginny both attended a similar course to this one at Hogwarts. He couldn't fathom admitting to his panic attacks in front of the whole bloody school.

He wasn't ashamed. Not really anyway. He just didn't fancy all the extra attention… again.

Well, he thought wryly, trying to decide how best to answer question #4 on the form: "reason for your interest in undergoing the magical trauma rehabilitation and exposure course," at least it was something to distract him from his sudden sexual… whatever it was.

He still couldn't get over it. Not so much the wanting to get it on with blokes bit, though there were certainly moments he wasn't quite over _that_ either, but more the bit where it had never occurred to him before. How did that even happen to a person?

The day after his revelation had been spent in a daze, roaming about Grimmauld place, rather than sending Kingsley the three statements he owed him. He'd played back every interaction he'd ever had with Cho and Ginny. Hell, he'd even thrown Hermione into the mix. They were pretty, all three of them. He liked all three of them (although the idea of ever doing anything remotely romantic with Hermione made him feel genuinely queasy. She was his sister. That was that). But if he really thought about it, there had been signs…

The whole thing with Cho was a genuine disaster. He'd been excited about kissing her, yes, but upon reflection he thought maybe he'd just been excited to have kissed… anyone. Kissing was a teenage milestone and he'd done it. Before Ron! He'd never actually enjoyed it, true. But he couldn't really blame that entirely on Cho being a girl, as there was the whole crying thing to contend with.

So he moved on to Ginny, which is where he got the most muddled up. At least at first. He and Ginny had felt great. Her friendship was easy and her boldness took him further along the path of normal teenage exploits.

They'd never done anything too serious, just a lot of over the clothes feeling and squeezing. Sure, it had been Ginny who moved his hand to her breast the first time. And the second. And… well, all of the times after that. But that was just gentlemanly!

He had tried to remember what he'd felt, kissing Ginny, squeezing her tits, thought maybe he'd have a wank and this whole bizarre thing would be done with. Then he'd remembered the time Ginny had offered to pretty much wank him herself and that ended that idea quickly. It had been a disaster. Or could have been. He wasn't sure anymore. As soon as Ginny had made a move towards him, his semi-interested cock had decided that actually, no, it did not very much care to be wanked by someone else.

He'd been mortified and confused, but Ginny had merely giggled and suggested "maybe next time."

It had taken him a few minutes to realized she'd thought he had gotten off on the idea alone, rather than assumed he couldn't keep it up. He wasn't sure which was more embarrassing, truth be told. He'd resolved to sort that out whenever "next time" came along, but then he went off with Dumbledore to retrieve the locket and well…

While he was on the topic though… wanking! Of course! He couldn't be gay. He'd been wanking for years and surely he would have noticed if he was thinking of other cocks while doing it!

But what had he thought of? He admittedly didn't wank as often as his dormates did, knowledge he would prefer he didn't have but such was the way of things in a room full of teenage boys, but he certainly wasn't a saint, particularly after quidditch matches or practice. It was a good way to relax after the hard workouts and…oh god… and after the raucous horseplay in the boy's locker room.

He'd forced himself out of the house after that, no real idea where he was going, but knowing staying in the old house all day, alone with his thoughts, was going to make him go spare. After an hour of wandering through the city, he'd parked himself at a Muggle cafe in SoHo, ordered a flat white, and spent the next two hours examining every man and woman who walked in. He would have felt a bit disgusted with himself for essentially prowling over every person to decide whether or not they were attractive, but he had to know.

His approach may have been childish at best, but it worked. Harry Potter, the wizarding world's chosen one, fancied men.

In the week that had followed, he hadn't started to unpack the fact that specifically, he fancied Ron. A lot. Fancied the ever living daylights out of him in fact. He had at least admitted it to himself, but that was as far as he was willing to entertain the topic.

Things with Ron had already shifted so much since the war that Harry wasn't certain how to even broach the topic in his own head, let alone with Ron directly. He grudgingly admitted that he'd have to tell Ron eventually, at least about the liking blokes part, as he'd been forced to acknowledge that the growing intimacy between them was probably not very platonic on his side. Not the end of the world necessarily, at least he hoped, but Ron should probably know that he was currently sharing a bed with a man who very much wanted to share it in a myriad of non-mate-y ways.

Harry closed his eyes and rubbed his temples wearily, trying to focus on the form he was meant to be completing and not the image of Oliver Wood, half dressed and chiseled stone, flexing at him from the cover of Witch Weekly. This wasn't helping.

He needed to talk to someone about this, but talking to Ron about it at this stage was a non starter even if Harry had wanted to, given the state Ron was in the last few days. He wanted to talk to Hermione, but he didn't have any confirmation as to whether or not Ron had shattered her heart to pieces and felt it would be unfair to burden her with his mess yet again, even if it was blessedly free of life and death implications this time.

He had owled her shortly after Ron left for work that morning, resolving to apparate to her parents' if her response indicated any sort of melancholy. If Ron had hurt her, again, he was bloody well going to kill him.

* * *

Ron hadn't had a clear idea of where he was headed when he'd made his hasty exit from Triple W, but he wasn't all that surprised when he found himself in the general vicinity of The Burrow.

He hadn't planned on telling his parents until he'd made his way through all his siblings first, though goodness knew why, as he didn't really have any logic behind that choice. He also had no intention of telling George today, at work of all places, but none of this was really working out to plan anyway. At this point he just wanted it over with.

With a pang, he realized that what he actually wanted was to talk to his best friends about this, but he'd bolloxed that up a fair bit at the minute. He paused at the paddock gate that would take him through the orchard and to his parent's house. His dad wouldn't be home yet. If he went in now, he'd have to do it twice, once with his mother and then all over again when his dad got home.

"Shit," he muttered, wondering if perhaps he should just make an announcement at Christmas dinner instead.

"Ron?"

"_Shit!_" Ron repeated, his wand out and a hex at the tip of his tongue before realizing it was Ginny, a broom slung over her shoulder. "Fuck's sake Ginny…"

Ginny just rolled her eyes as she made her way over to the fence line. Ron had forgotten she would be here. With a start, he remembered what he must look like, but it was too late to do anything about it now, Ginny had already gotten close enough to notice his bloodshot eyes and splotchy face and was frowning at him slightly. He didn't speak. He was too tired to explain himself.

"_Accio_ cleansweep."

Without another word, Ginny offered him the summoned broom, which he took gratefully and trudged after her.

They flew until Ron could no longer feel his nose from the cold, playing keeper for Ginny, who was admittedly better than him, but he didn't mind. If she made one of the national teams in the spring there'd be free match tickets floating around the family and he very much wanted to be on her good side when that happened.

Finally conceding the weather was getting the better of them, they began the walk back up to the house, keeping to the comfortable silence they'd maintained throughout the afternoon outside of quaffle calls. He felt better, the physical outlet helping work out some of his tension. He and Harry actually had a fairly regular work out regimine, suggested by Kingsley, to keep them fit for the Auror Academy. He'd been neglecting it lately though with the shop being so busy ahead of the holiday. He resolved to pick it back up again if it meant having somewhere to get out some of his pent up energy.

"Hey Ginny," Ron said, deciding he may as well plow on and try a few different approaches while he was at it.

"Hmm?" she replied, continuing to trudge along beside him, needing to walk considerably quicker to keep up with his long strides.

"I'm gay."

Ginny stopped mid step and reared back a bit, clearly trying to process what he'd said. Ron just paused and looked back at her, waiting for whatever reaction she had in store for him. He was actually the least confident in how Ginny was going to respond, but considering Hermione's and George's reactions hadn't been anything like what he had imagined… what the hell really?

"That it?" she asked finally, clearly confused, "just… thought you'd put it out there?"

Ron shrugged. That wasn't inaccurate really.

"Just clarifying," Ginny tried again, clearly a little agitated that he wasn't offering any additional information on the topic, "you're gay as in, you like men. As in, all that malarkey with Lavender was just a big showy… whatever?"

Also accurate, Ron thought grimly as he gave Ginny a half shrug. She rolled her eyes.

"And Hermione?"

Ron winced at that.

"Mmm," was all Ginny said, swinging her broom across her shoulders and cocking her hip to one side as she continued to study him.

"I don't care if you like boys Ron," she said at last, "I hope you know that. But I'd appreciate some… well anything really."

"Anytime I've attempted to elaborate on the topic I end up crying like a nance, which, while appropriate I suppose, I don't particularly feel like doing at the minute."

"Ok," Ginny conceded, "but can I ask questions? You can, I don't know, nod your head or something?"

"Sure. Just no promises on the fullness of the answers."

Ginny nodded, accepting his terms, continuing to study him curiously.

"Does Hermione know?"

He nodded.

"Is she alright?"

He started to nod, but changed his mind midway and shrugged instead.

"Fair enough," Ginny muttered, "Can I talk to her about it?"

"Please do." He wanted Hermione to have an outlet and had told her as much.

"Have you ever been with a guy?"

He shook his head.

"So… are you _sure _then?"

He scowled.

"I'm just asking!" Ginny defended herself, "I'm just saying, if you've never…"

"Dean owns a West Ham jersey," Ron interrupted, suddenly fascinated with his fingernails. "He likes to wear it every year at the start of football season. It's been too small on him since about third year."

Ginny's eyebrows shot up as she bit back a laugh. Every girl in Gryffindor knew that West Ham jersey, even the girls who didn't have the faintest idea what West Ham even was. It was legend; Dean looked fit as hell in it (partly because _Dean _was fit as hell, but there was just something about that jersey…)

"Ok then," she said finally, the laughter evident in her tone as Ron just arched an eyebrow at her pointedly.

"Do you fancy anyone then?" Ginny asked with a grin, her eyes sparkling at the discovery of this side of her brother she'd never known about before.

Ron bit his lip, wishing he'd seen this question coming. He really should have. The smile melted off of Ginny's face as realization dawned on her.

"Of course," she answered for him, "I should have… yeah."

"Bit of a moot point though, really," Ron supplied.

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. Have you talked to him about it? Does he know?"

Ron shook his head.

"But you're going to tell him, right?"

Nod.

"Good. You never know. I mean…"

"Ginny," Ron stopped her, "I really can't entertain this conversation, ok? I'm planning to tell him I'm gay, nothing else. So unless you have some hard hitting evidence along the lines of 'he once told me that my tits were grotesque,' let's change the subject, please?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Fair enough. But I'll add that he's actually kind of a lousy kisser, if that helps."

Ron barked out a laugh. It didn't help, but he'd long ago mastered the art of not thinking about Harry and kissing in the same scenario (unless of course he was alone and had some free time on his hands, in which case all bets were off).

"So is this your big coming out parade or something then?" Ginny plowed ahead.

"Suppose so."

"Who knows?"

"You've moved away from yes or no questions," Ron warned, "but, Bill and Fleur, Hermione, George, and now you."

"George?"

"Uh, as of this afternoon, yeah. Bit of an accident…"

Ginny just nodded, her smile sympathetic.

"Was he nice about it?"

"He was George."

"Are you here to tell mum and dad?"

He nodded.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

He paused for a moment. Ginny would probably help make things less emotionally charged.

"Would you mind?"

"Not at all. Last question…" he waited expectantly as Ginny grinned at him again, "This summer, when I get home from school, will you go to the pub and check out guys with me?"

Ron burst into genuine laughter, annoyed as hell but no longer surprised when he realized he was crying again from both the laughing and… not the laughing. He sniffed as he caught his breath, wiping his eyes.

"Told you the crying thing was a bit of a mess," he said, rolling his eyes while dabbing them dry with his sleeve. "Bloody ridiculous."

"Nah," Ginny said, conjuring a proper kleenex for him. "I'd imagine it's a bit of a roller coaster. I'm proud of you Ron. I know this can't be easy."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get moving before I lose it completely. I don't think I have it in me to handle 3 breakdowns in one day, and goodness knows I won't get through mum without another…"

In the end, he made it through the conversation with his parents better than expected, all things considered. He'd never been particularly worried about their response in all honesty. His dad was as easy going as ever, and considering he had a horde of siblings to offer up grandkids, he was pretty much in the clear with his mum too.

Ginny's presence had helped, injecting her dry humor and taking the focus off of him with a few off colour jokes. She really was a lot more like the the tw… like George than most people realized. Her wit was just as sharp anyway.

When he'd finally managed to untangle himself from Molly's constant hugs of reassurance (which he was admittedly quite grateful for despite his protestations), he found himself outside of Triple W again as the last of the shopkeepers were shoo-ing late night customers out and locking up. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd come back, but thought part of it might be because he was avoiding Harry.

He didn't say anything, just stood to the side of the entrance as George came through the door to start putting up the wards for the night.

"You'll have to come back tomorrow mate," he said, drawing a funky pattern with his wand across the left window display. "We open at… Oh. Hey."

Ron nodded in greeting, his hands deep in his pockets.

"Go on. I just need to finish up here."

Ron shuffled past his brother, into the shop and up the back staircase that led to the flat.

"Hey Ron."

Ron jumped, surprised to find Angelina curled comfortably on the small sofa, book in hand and… was she wearing pajamas?

"Uhh… hey?"

Angelina looked up at him with a small smirk. Ron stuffed his hands back into his pockets again and stood awkwardly in the doorway for a minute before Angelina decided to have mercy on him.

Rolling her eyes, she jerked her head towards George's bedroom, indicating he was free to pass. "Make sure you knock next time," she warned.

Ron smiled sheepishly at her as he shuffled by, crossing into George's room and through the tiny window that led to an even tinier landing.

It was the best kept secret at Wheezes, the little space outside George's window. There was enough room for two people to sit comfortably on small camp chairs, three or four if they conjured stools instead, and enjoy the view of various chimney's across Diagon Alley.

All his siblings had spent considerable time here over the summer. George had needed… well, none of them knew what George needed apart from Fred, but they'd done their best. They'd banded together to find a way for him to escape their mother on occasion, who they all knew needed George as much as George needed some space. They'd taken it in turns, one or two of them sneaking him back to the flat for a few hours of peace while the others ran interference with Molly. Ron would have felt guilty about it but he had a feeling Molly knew exactly what they were doing, and he frankly hadn't minded the extra time with his mother in those first few weeks and months.

George climbed out of the window a few minutes later, saying nothing as he took out a pack of muggle cigarettes and lit one, handing the box over to Ron who sighed before taking one himself.

It was the one vice his siblings had allowed George after Fred's death. While he'd gotten himself plenty pissed on more than one occasion, his siblings, Harry included, had made sure he could never make it a habit. It was Ron who had felt the brunt of his anger on the topic. He'd caught Ron smuggling booze out of his flat. George knew all of his siblings did it when they were over, as he mysteriously never had any alcohol available unless someone else was providing it, and he was secretly incredibly grateful to them for it- nothing numbed the pain the way alcohol did, and he had enough of his wits about him to recognize the danger in that- but he'd actually caught Ron at it and was in no fit state to turn a blind eye that particular evening. He'd said some pretty terrible things.

George had recently decided that he'd never really given Ron enough credit growing up. Ron was a more loyal friend than any Hufflepuff George knew, and when Ron had simply accepted George's feeble attempt at an apology with a nod of his head, never bringing it up again, George realized just how changed his little brother was from all this war garbage. Or at least just how much more mature he was than George had ever realized… not that he was a particular expert in the area of maturity.

So, cigarettes it was. He'd learned that Charlie was a regular smoker on the reserve, though he sprung for the fancy wizarding versions, some bull about the smell of the smoke helping to calm the dragons. Ron, and shockingly Percy, also joined him on occasion, whether because they actually liked the things or just for something to do, he wasn't sure.

"So," Ron said finally, "Angelina live here now?"

"Sometimes."

Ron smirked and waggled his eyebrows suggestively as George rolled his eyes.

"Sure you want to go there, Mr. 'oh hey, by the way, I'd rather take it up the…'"

"Oi!" Ron cut him off sharply, half choking on his cigarette as he did, "I thought I got a free pass for now?"

George shrugged. "Don't press your luck. Where'd you head off to this afternoon then?"

"The Burrow. Ginny's keen on taking me pub crawling for guys this summer," he heaved a sigh and slumped back into his chair, "like I'd even have any clue how the buggering fuck to do _that_."

George had to laugh. Leave it to Ginny…

"You tell mum and dad then?"

"Yeah."

"Were they the last to know?"

"No. I've got a few more to go."

"Should've just announced it at Christmas dinner Ronnie. Save yourself some extended drama Id've thought."

"I considered it," Ron said honestly. George arched a brow as Ron took out a second cigarette. Ron usually didn't even finish his first one, but George didn't comment.

"Are you alright?"

Ron snorted as he lit the smoke with the tip of his wand. "Don't try to be Bill."

"Let it never be said that I don't try," George replied slightly exasperated, "Seriously Ron. I'm not the empathetic one in the family ok, I get that, and I am going to have an _absolute_ field day once your grace period is over, rest assured, but you know I really don't give a rat's arse where you want to stick it, right?"

Ron sat very quietly for a long time, not looking at George as he took slow drags.

"Am I stupid for having made such a big deal out of it this whole time?" he said at last.

"What's 'this whole time'?"

"My entire life."

"Jeezus Ron."

"Well how long have you liked girls?" he replied irritably.

"Fair enough I guess, but why do you think it's such a big deal? So it's unorthodox. Who really gives a shit at the end of the day? I'm actually a little annoyed you think anyone in the family would actually be upset by it."

Ron snorted again. "Auntie Muriel?"

"Anyone in the family that _counts_," George amended.

They lapsed back into silence for awhile, the only indication of Ron's continued stress the third cigarette he'd tried to obtain from George, who decided it was time to put the box away.

"Did you know about Oliver?"

"What? That he's bent? Known that since 4th year. Not sure he wanted to tell us then, as he wasn't really out at school I don't think, but Katie had a mammoth crush on him and it got to the point that he had to sort her out. The whole team thought he was messing her about so he had to explain or risk a hexing… or worse, _a bad practice._"

Ron turned to look at George, perplexed. "You make it sound so… like it's no big deal."

"Because it isn't," George said simply.

They lapsed into silence again. It was one of the beautiful things about this spot. Talking was never required.

"I have to tell Harry." Ron said, hoping he didn't sound quite as pitiful as he felt.

"So? With everything you two have been through...? Give him some credit."

"So you wouldn't care if Lee…"

"For all I know, Lee goes both ways," George cut him off. "I wouldn't put it past him at least. Look Ron, if Harry, or anyone else for that matter, gives you a hard time about this," he paused here, causing Ron to look over at him, "they will have the wrath of the entire Weasley sibling cohort to deal with. We are the only ones who get to torture you."

Ron snickered and shook his head, though he was touched George had made the point. He'd actually been planning to ask how his brother would feel if Lee wanted to jump his bones, but best not give George any more ammunition than he already had.

"Right," George said, standing up and stretching, "in case you didn't notice, there's a fit bird on my sofa…"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get out of your hair." Ron stood as well, noting he'd stayed much longer than he'd planned. "I'll apparate from here. You still ok with me taking off tomorrow? I can come in if you need me too."

George shook his head. "Take some time Ron, and just remember what a gracious and benevolent boss I am."

"Right," Ron rolled his eyes, "I'll remember that next time you ask me to clean the puking pastille cauldrons."

* * *

**Reviews are greatly appreciated :-)**


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3- In which Harry has one hell of a day, and Ron learns that perhaps he's not so unusual after all.**

* * *

Sleep had always been a favorite pastime of Ron's. Having a lie in on a Saturday, a nap on a Sunday (or on a Tuesday even, if he happened to have professor Binns) - all beautiful times in his life.

After the war, not so much.

"Ron? Ron, wake up mate, it's alright. Come on…"

Ron shot up, arms flailing as he tried to ground himself. Merlin he hated this, the moment before he could sort out reality from nightmare and the crushing panic that shot through every inch of him until…

"You're ok Ron."

Ron never much cared that _he_ was ok. He cared that the person the voice belonged to was ok. And if that voice was calm, then the other people he was panicked for must be ok too.

Ron brought his hand up to cover Harry's, whose was resting firmly on Ron's shoulder and squeezed, fighting to take deep, slow breaths.

"Thanks," he muttered.

Harry didn't comment, and instead began to work out one of the knots in Ron's shoulder. Ron groaned, dropping his hand from covering Harry's so his friend could properly work.

It took several minutes, but Ron eventually stopped trembling as Harry did wonders along his tense shoulders. This was nothing new, and Ron had done the same for Harry on more than one occasion, but Ron couldn't help but feel a little surprised that Harry had offered so readily considering how weird he'd been the last couple of days.

Ron had come home to find Harry asleep on the sofa, obviously having attempted to wait up for him, probably because Ron had promised to explain what was going on with him lately. He felt like a bit of an arse.

Ron rolled his shoulders in gratitude as Harry gave them a final squeeze.

"Want some breakfast?" Harry asked, seemingly resigned that dawn was upon them.

"Sure," Ron said wearily. He knew when trying to go back to sleep was futile. "I'll meet you downstairs in a minute."

Harry nodded and disappeared from the room as Ron pulled himself together before heading to his own room.

Despite the shared bed, they did maintain separate living quarters. Ron had his own bathroom and wardrobe. He kept Pig's cage in his own bedroom and though he and Harry both spent most of their time in the kitchen and sitting room, this was still very much his own space within the house. He never felt like he and Harry were actually sharing a room. Just the sleeping arrangements.

He shook his head. His brain was still too full to dwell on how strange the arrangements were.

After a nearly silent breakfast of porridge while the pair woke up properly, Ron set down his coffee mug and braced himself.

"Harry, I need to talk to you."

Harry looked up and simply waited, and Ron suddenly didn't know where to start.

"Umm. You know I, that I said things weren't romantic with me and Hermione?"

Harry just quirked an eyebrow in response, clearly still unimpressed with this idea.

"Right. Well. It's because… I… umm…"

"It's just me Ron. Spit it out."

"It'sBecauseIPreferBlokes."

Harry blinked, whether because he hadn't understood a word Ron had just said or because of _what_ Ron had said, Ron didn't know.

"I'm gay," he clarified quickly, not wanting to get into the mess of wrong conclusions like he had with Hermione. "I know that might be… umm, a tad, unexpected?"

Harry merely blinked at him again, giving zero indication that that he had taken in any of what Ron was saying.

"I really wanted it to work with her. I did! I just, I can't pretend anymore that this… this part of me isn't real. It's always been real and… I… yeah. I told her the other night so… it's… it's done now, I guess. ...For fuck's sake Harry, say something!"

Harry opened his mouth but quickly closed it again. The only thing running through his stunned brain was a loud, repetitive, 'What? What? _WHAT?!_' as he tried to string a coherent sentence together.

Ron was quickly shutting down, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as he pleaded with his eyes for Harry to say something, anything.

"Ok," was all Harry managed. He had no idea what his face was doing. He couldn't think, his brain fuzzy as he tried to concentrate on his friend. His friend who he knew needed him right now.

Ron just looked at Harry incredulously for a moment, unsure what to make of that statement.

"Ok? What… I mean… what?"

"Well, what else... I mean… _what_?"

Ron dropped his head to his hands. This was getting them nowhere.

"Do you… I mean, do you get what I said Harry? About…"

"About liking blokes? Yeah… yes. I got that. I… that's fine Ron but… Hermione? I mean… just… WHAT?!"

Harry cringed mentally for changing the direction of the conversation, but he could not process the idea that perhaps Ron was like him. Perhaps Ron wouldn't be disgusted to find out that Harry was a poof. Perhaps Ron may even be interested in… no. No, no, no. He could not go there. Not now… oh god. OhGodOhGodOhGod…

Ron had stood up and was pacing the kitchen. He'd been afraid of this. The Hermione question. From anyone else, he could navigate it. With Harry… well, Harry had seen it hadn't he? That damned locket…

Clinging to the part where Harry had glossed over Ron's liking men and said the words 'that's fine,' Ron gathered himself and turned to face Harry again. There was really no other way to do this.

"The locket, right?"

Harry just nodded, his expression cloudy and unreadable, but Ron couldn't distract himself with that now.

"Look Harry, I… it's complicated. I… can I start with explaining what that thing did to me?"

"I know what it did Ron," Harry said, not unkindly, "I wore it too. And I was there when it tried to take you out. I…" Ron was shaking his head.

"No. I mean yes, you saw all that, you know what the locket felt like. But it um… it did something else to me."

Well this was news. Harry's nose wrinkled in concentration as he waited for Ron to continue. He'd often thought the episode with the locket was oddly specific. Like it _knew_ Ron. Harry hated every second that ruddy necklace was in contact with him; it made him feel sick and angry and all sorts of strange. But he had often wondered how the locket had seemed to know exactly how to prey on Ron so specifically.

"Ok," Ron took a shaky breath, "so, dark magic, or any magic really, leaves traces. And dark magic specifically can imbed itself in pure magic. Sort of… parasitic. It can poison you, basically."

Harry sat up straighter at this, alarmed. No. No, no, no…

"I… the locket, it, imbedded some of its dark magic into my um, into my core magic. Bill explains this much better, but it was different for me… wearing the locket."

Harry wanted to be sick and to punch something at the same time. Just when he thought he couldn't possibly torture the people closest to him enough…

"It's not your fault," Ron said automatically, knowing the first place Harry's head would go. "It could have been any of us Harry, it just happened to be me. It's… well, when I, you know, when I was at Bill's, I _did_ want to come straight back and look for you and Hermione again, but I literally couldn't. Bill and Fleur had to… er, detox me."

"Shit... Ron…"

"Don't," Ron warned, seeing the tell tale signs of Harry's guilty conscious making their way outward. "It's not the point. It doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. It just… it is what it is. But the point I'm trying to get to here is that it fucked with me. A lot. I knew I was attracted to men. I'd known for years. But the locket mixed all that up in my head even worse than it already was, and I thought, well hell, maybe I did fancy Hermione. And I _wanted_ to. Merlin knows I wanted to. But in the end I just…" Ron took a deep breath, pulling a hand through his hair. "I don't know what else to say Harry. What you saw with the locket… it could have gone another way." Ron braced himself. "It could have decided to show you choosing Hermione over me instead of… instead of her choosing you. I… I'm sorry."

Ron couldn't bring himself to look at Harry, afraid the implication was too much, too soon. Harry, for his part, had barely even registered what Ron was saying, let alone what it could mean. He'd barely been able to listen past Ron's mumbled admission that he liked men, for Merlin's sake.

Through the sludge of his brain, Harry knew he was supposed to be saying something. Hell if he knew what, but this was clearly pivotal for Ron. But he didn't know how! He could barely see straight, let alone think. Ron liked men? _RON_? That didn't… how could… what?

He had to act, and while he wasn't proud of it, the only thing he could think of was…

"Is Hermione ok?"

Shit, he was an arse. Ron was obviously anguished by the whole thing and here he was, his best mate, rubbing his face in it!

Ron recoiled slightly, his arms wrapping tightly around himself again as he shrugged.

"She's hurt," he said quietly, then added, "we both are."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, so remained silent, hating himself as he watched Ron close himself off.

"I'm sorry Harry," he said quietly. "I…"

"Why are you sorry?" Harry snapped suddenly, unsure where the anger was coming from but feeling rather helpless to stop it. Ron definitely shouldn't be apologizing and he, Harry, should be doing something to make that clear.

Ron shrugged helplessly and finally looked up. Harry felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

Ron's eyes were bright with unshed tears, but they were also desperate, for what, Harry had no idea.

"Ron… I don't know what you want me to say right now. But we're ok, ok?"

It was the best he could come up with. He had no idea how to continue this discussion without losing it. He didn't know why he felt so angry. It didn't make any sense.

"Ok," Ron said uncertainly, arms still tightly folded over himself, "do… would you like me to leave?"

"What?" Harry asked, dumbfounded.

"Do you want me to leave? I could go stay with George or…"

"Why the bloody hell would I want you to leave?"

Ron just shrugged again. He didn't know what else to do. It was clear Harry was not ok with this, but Ron couldn't read much else in Harry's expression.

"Ron," Harry tried again, forcing himself to shove aside his confusion for the moment, "it's ok. I promise. It's just… a lot to take in, ok? I just… all this time? You've… you've lied to me all this time?"

Ron's eyes widened and Harry suddenly wanted to smack himself. That explained where the anger was coming from he supposed. He really wanted to keep pretending it was righteous anger on Hermione's behalf. That felt a lot safer.

"I was lying to myself mostly," Ron said quietly, unable to meet Harry's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Harry said irritably.

They sat in silence, neither one of them knowing what to say. Harry knew he was supposed to say something reassuring, that Ron couldn't possibly know the reason Harry was so out of sorts; Harry barely knew himself. But it was like someone had tuned his brain to a station full of static.

"I umm… I have the day off. I think I'll go back up to bed for a bit, try to get a few more hours of sleep."

Harry jerked himself back to the present, forcing himself to focus on the fact that Ron needed him at the moment.

"Ok…"

Ron didn't wait around. He slipped back upstairs and retreated to his own room, where he stared at the ceiling rather than any actual resting. By the time he came back down stairs, Harry was gone.

* * *

Hermione flicked lazily through the newspaper, not really reading so much as skimming headlines, her tea warm in her hand.

It was so quiet. Her parents were always up and out to work early, and while she really should be dressed for the day by now, she figured she may as well have a second cup of tea… or a third. It's not like she had anywhere to be.

She knew it was important to spend the holiday with her parents, especially after everything she'd put them through, but she missed the energy of the common room, or the chatter over breakfast at The Burrow.

The Burrow. It stung to think about. She was still processing what Ron had told her. She knew she'd still be welcomed at The Burrow any time, but it felt strange to think about right now. It was too fresh.

With a sigh, Hermione debated whether or not to reply to Ginny's owl. It had arrived yesterday evening, short and sweet:

_Hermione,_

_Ron told me. You have three days to process and wallow in your weird introverted way. After that, I'm descending on you with chocolate and ice cream and you're hosting me for a sleepover._

_See you Saturday,_

_Ginny_

Hermione didn't know whether or not she was processing, truth be told. She had allowed herself a proper cry in the privacy of her own room, but that was about it as far as the wallowing went. She wanted to be angry. That would have been so much easier, not to mention familiar. But she couldn't bring herself to be angry at Ron for this. And really, she'd been letting Ron go for months.

Hermione jumped as the doorbell interrupted her musings. Who on earth…?

Gathering her dressing gown tightly around herself and checking that her wand was still in her pocket, Hermione went to the door and let out a small sigh as she looked through the peephole. She should have known.

"Hi Harry."

"Hey Hermione."

He stood awkwardly on the doorstep for another second before Hermione launched herself at him, wishing she wouldn't cry but knowing it was useless to stop it.

She loved Ginny for knowing she needed some time alone, and for knowing she would have to demand a girl's night because Hermione would never know how to initiate one herself.

But she loved Harry for showing up anyway, even knowing she would be a sniffling, girly, mess.

"Maybe we should move off the doorstep?" Harry suggested.

Hermione let go and gave him a watery smile before backing into the house.

"Do you want a cup of tea?"

Harry shook his head as he followed Hermione to the sitting room. He was here against his better judgment. He hadn't known what to do with himself after his conversation, if it could be considered that, with Ron in the wee hours. But he'd had to do something. And when in doubt, there had always been one constant in his life during times of emotional upheaval, whether he wanted it or not: Hermione.

But she was currently nursing a broken heart, it was all over her face the moment she'd opened the door. Merlin, why had he come? He shouldn't be here at all if he couldn't be here for her properly.

"Harry?"

He also should have known she would see through him in less than a minute. She could always read him, but ever since the weeks spent in the tent without Ron… it was a new level. They'd both been lost without him, and Harry had always thought it was for different reasons, but he suddenly realized that no, the reasons were likely very much the same.

"How much did he tell you?" Hermione asked gently.

"Enough."

When Hermione just continued to look at him he sighed and tried again.

"Enough that I can't bring myself to punch him for you Hermione. I still want to but…"

"I know. I feel the same way. Anger would be…"

"Easier," Harry supplied.

She nodded and summoned a tea cup. Apparently Harry would be having tea whether he wanted it or not.

"When did he tell you?"

"About three hours ago."

Hermione paused in her tea making, but didn't comment.

"He umm… I'm having a hard time sorting out… what I mean is…"

Hermione laughed and pressed the tea cup into his hand.

"Honestly. He's _gay_ Harry. It's not the strangest thing to ever happen to us now is it?"

That was a fair point. By their standards, this could be considered an ordinary Wednesday. Hermione didn't know that he was currently in the middle of an identity crisis.

"What is it Harry?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked a little too quickly.

Hermione furrowed her brow before sighing and settling herself onto the sofa, fixing Harry with a look.

Harry hadn't had any particular plan when he came to Hermione's, but it was clear he was going to have to come clean. Or come out, he supposed. It wasn't fair to her, but he knew that look.

"What aren't you telling me Harry?" Hermione continued, once Harry had finally sat down on the opposite side of the couch. "You don't have a problem with this do you?" She asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing.

"No! Of course not. Why is that the first thing you both thought?"

"Oh Harry. What did you say?"

"Nothing! I didn't… I just… Bloody hell Hermione…"

Hermione tilted her head slightly, taking Harry in. He looked… stressed. Harry wasn't nearly as telling in his anxiety as Ron, who felt compelled to action when he was wound up. Harry by contrast could turn himself to stone. Only an expert in Harry's moodiness could decipher the subtle differences in his posture, the creases in his forehead, whether they meant contemplation, anger, or anxiety. This was anxiety.

"Harry…?"

Harry dropped his head into his hands, mumbling unintelligently.

"What was that?"

"I said," he moved his hands from covering his face, dragging them instead through his hair, still not looking up at her. "I think I… no, I _know_, I… God I have no idea how to… I… I am too Hermione. I've only just figured it out which is utterly ridiculous! But… I am too."

Hermione stilled, only barely refraining from asking for clarification. She'd been shocked when Ron had told her he was gay, but that had been short lived. The longer she'd sat with the idea, the more sense it made to her, as though 8 years of puzzle pieces had suddenly come together and the full picture of Ron she'd been working on was finally complete. Harry though… she felt like her brain was stuck. Harry was the… well stable was the wrong word entirely, but when it came to knowing her two best friends, Harry had been the more text book example. He was a wreck from his aunt and uncles' abuse, certainly, but he always displayed that hurt in a logical way for anyone who was bothered to do the research. And of course she had bothered to do the research. Harry was therefore predictable. That was it. Harry was the _predictable_ one.

This was decidedly unpredictable with everything she thought she knew about Harry though.

"Ok," she said at last, defaulting to her academic side. "How long have you felt that way?"

Harry looked up at her. "What day is it? Wednesday? I'd say about two weeks and three days then." He answered dryly.

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

Harry sighed and picked his tea cup back up, partly grateful and partly annoyed that Hermione had made it for him even though he'd said he didn't want it. Damn her for knowing him so well.

"I don't know Hermione," he said with exasperation, "I'm still figuring it out. I just… I may have unintentionally let Ron think I was struggling with the idea more because of… because of you, when really I just… the idea of him… being like me… I... I don't know! I've barely come to terms with it myself, maybe even haven't totally come to terms with it? And then here is my best friend, telling me he's known his whole life that he… that… I mean…sodding hell Hermione, I'm just so bloody confused right now."

Harry shrugged helplessly. Not knowing what else to say and feeling guilty for saying anything in the first place. Why was he so bent out of shape over this? Wasn't it good news, all things considered, that his best mate also happened to be into men? He was so confused. And angry. Angry at Ron for hiding this from him. Angry at him for hurting Hermione. Angry at himself for not knowing sooner… about Ron, or about himself…

He was so muddled up that he didn't notice that Hermione had shifted and was now standing right in front of him, startling him slightly. She looked at him with brown, watery eyes and he knew why he'd come here, despite all the reasons he shouldn't have. He leaned back into the sofa, giving Hermione an opening, which she took without hesitation, cuddling up beside him and resting her head on his shoulder.

They'd done this before, back in the tent, when neither one of them had known what to say. When the pain of Ron's absence was more than either of them knew how to cope with. When they'd needed to know that someone else understood the gut wrenching reality of loving Ron Weasley when the red headed fool had no earthly clue what he meant to them.

He should have known then.

They stayed like this for awhile; long enough for Harry's tea to go cold.

"You should say it out loud you know." Hermione said at last.

"Say what?"

"That you're gay. And that you fancy our best friend."

"Isn't that what I said?" Harry replied with a smirk, earning an elbow to his ribs as Hermione tried not to laugh.

"_No. _You didn't. You do like him then? Ron, I mean?"

"Of course I like him. Would've been a bit of a struggle to be his mate all these years if I didn't even like him."

"Harry…" Hermione warned.

Harry sighed. Somehow saying it out loud would make it more real. Perhaps that was partly why he'd come as well.

"I'm... gay. Happy?"

Hermione gave a small 'hrmph' of satisfaction. He knew he wasn't off the hook, but she'd accepted the small admission as good enough for the moment.

Harry's stomach was churning and he kept picking up his tea before remembering it was cold. Hermione finally took pity on him and cast a warming charm on the cup and he thanked her sheepishly. Household spells always seemed to elude him.

"It's ok you know." She said finally, turning to face him properly, forcing him to look at her.

She had tears in her eyes again. Damnit. He hated it when she cried. "Not just the being gay part Harry," she continued before he could come up with any kind of response.

Harry's hand froze halfway on its path towards Hermione's. He wasn't sure what he'd been planning to do really. Hug her in gratitude maybe? But she was still speaking…

"It's ok that you want him too… that you want him like I do." She finished softly, tears properly falling now.

Harry swallowed thickly. Up until this morning, he'd only allowed himself to play out the scenario of being with Ron as a purely physical idea and even that had been a distant idea really. In the last few hours though, he'd been forced to acknowledge that it was more than that. It _could be_ more than that… and probably already was. The idea scared the ever living daylights out of him. What did a relationship look like between two blokes anyway? He had no idea where he would even start. With Ron, or anyone for that matter. Would he have to buy Ron flowers on Valentine's Day? Would Ron _want_ him to? Would… it was just so complicated and overwhelming and besides any of that, he didn't have reason to believe Ron would even be interested. Harry was probably like one of his brothers to him. They'd been best mates for years. He had needed to ignore the part of the discussion where Ron had indicated that the locket could have shown Harry choosing Hermione over Ron; he couldn't unpack that now- he'd explode.

He jolted back to the present as he felt Hermione gently brush a tear from his face. Shit. When had he started crying? He hardly ever cried.

"I don't want…" the words died in his throat. He had no idea what he wanted. The idea was too vague in his head.

"You _do_," Hermione said softly. "I understand you don't really know what that means yet..."

Did she? How did she always know what he was thinking…

"...but I need you to know that it's ok. With me, I mean. It's ok in all the other ways too, Harry. But I know you, and so I'm telling you, it's ok. You wouldn't be taking him. I've known for a while now that he was never really mine."

Harry stared at Hermione for a minute, her expression kind even through her tears. He pulled her into a tight embrace.

"I don't deserve you Hermione."

She laughed and hugged him tighter.

"No more than I deserve you Harry."

* * *

It didn't take much to come out to Percy. Ron basically just sandwiched it between asking about Percy's day and requesting the salt. Percy had cocked his head to the side for a moment in contemplation before shrugging slightly and asking whether or not this was new news, or just another family update he'd missed during his time as 'the world's largest wanker.' He hadn't used those words exactly, but Ron knew what he'd meant.

The trickier part was trying to come up with a way to ask the 1000 questions he had about being best mates with Oliver, or maybe even talking to Oliver, if the idea didn't make him want to die of embarrassment.

Fleur had owled him that morning to say that Percy would be over for dinner and that he was welcome to join them, subtly implying that she'd set up an ideal opportunity for him to have some time with Percy without having to contrive something.

While mentally exhausted, and frankly a little bit sick after his conversation with Harry earlier, he wanted this over with. Besides, he didn't want to put Fleur out.

His relationship with his sister in law had taken an interesting turn after the war. Ron was grateful for her, for what she did for him (not to mention his friends) last winter, but also for how gracious she'd been to him since then. She could have made him feel incredibly awkward in 1000 different ways, but instead had gone out of her way to make him feel at ease, both with her and in her home.

While she could still come across snooty from time to time, she was fundamentally kind, as evidenced by her silent support of Ron as he'd agonized with Bill (also somewhat silently) the better part of 6 months before deciding he was ready to come out.

Subtlety was also her specialty, something the Weasley siblings sorely lacked. By the time pudding had wrapped up, Percy had invited Ron back to his for a pint; not a typical gesture, but when Ron caught Fleur's eye she had winked at him, making him conclude she had somehow suggested it without making it obvious.

"Do you want a proper pint or just a butterbeer?"

"Proper pint l think."

Percy emerged from the kitchen of his small flat and handed Ron a beer before sitting down across from him at the dining table.

"Go ahead."

Ron arched an eyebrow at Percy while he took a swig of his beer (this stuff was way better than firewhiskey).

Percy just removed his glasses to clean them, placing them primly back on his nose and looking expectantly back at Ron.

Well two could play this game. Ron simply took another pull of his beer and sat back into the dining chair. May as well get comfortable. Percy always did know how to agitate him unlike anyone else.

Sighing, Percy got up from the table and disappeared down the hall. He was gone long enough that Ron wondered if maybe he'd just abandoned him to his own devices for the evening, but Percy returned and resumed his spot across from Ron.

"Oliver is on his way over."

Ron spewed his beer across the table, eyes wide with shock, to which Percy merely sighed again and cleaned the mess with a silent wave of his wand.

"What the hell Perce?! What… why?"

"You have questions," Percy said patiently, "but I'm straight. My best friend happens to be the one in your shoes here Ron, not me."

"Well did it ever occur to you that maybe I had questions for my brother about being the straight best mate?"

Percy's expression softened slightly. That hadn't occurred to him, actually. He'd been so young when Oliver had told him and it had always just sort of been the way things were. As for Ron's apparent concern about his relationship with Harry… well, few best mates had been through the kinds of things his brother and Harry had, so Percy hadn't really expected it to be on the radar.

"I can't tell you what Harry will think Ron, only that it doesn't have to change anything between the two of you."

Ron wanted to believe that, but his conversation with Harry this morning hadn't been promising. He also doubted Oliver had harbored some long held crush on Percy, or thought maybe he had been in love with their mutual, female, best friend. Merlin this was complicated…

"Look it's never been an issue for me," Percy tried again, seeing the defeated look on Ron's face. "I don't know Harry that well," Ron noticed the slight blush at Percy's ears as he said this, but didn't comment. Percy had made his apologies and then some for all the stupid things he'd done in the last couple years, inclusive of the letter he'd sent Ron about staying away from Harry. "But I don't think he's the kind of person that's going to let this stand in the way of 8 years of friendship... a friendship that willingly walked into hell by his side."

Ron grunted and took another sip of beer, then added, "You still didn't have to call Oliver. I feel like enough of a freak show as it is."

Percy frowned, but before he could say anything there was a small commotion from his bedroom. He really needed to get the fireplace in the living room hooked up to the Floo…

"Ah, they're here."

"They?! Percy…"

"I couldn't ask Oliver without inviting Andrew."

"Who the bloody hell is Andrew?"

"Oliver's boyfriend. Did you not even read the Witch Weekly article?"

Ron buried his head in his hands, mumbling curses against his brother. Of course he'd read the article. Probably 50 times. But Oliver hadn't actually given any names to the interviewer, only confirming that yes, he was in a relationship. Percy was meant to be the smart one, how could he possibly not realize how mortifying this was for him?

"Ooo Percy's got some new jumpers!"

Ron quirked an eyebrow as Percy visibly cringed.

"It would appear they also invited Jonathan," he looked apologetically at Ron, who thought this was a very bad sign…

"Technically speaking, we never invite Jonathan with us anywhere," Oliver Wood appeared from the hallway. "Hey Ron," He greeted him, crossing the room to greet Percy with a hug before helping himself to the kitchen for more beers with the air of someone who had done so 100 times before.

"This is true," a new voice entered, sticking his hand out to Ron, "Andrew. Nice to meet you Ron."

Ron shook his hand before promptly returning to emptying his beer. He wanted to disappear into the floor. "You may want to go extract him Perce. You left the door to your wardrobe open."

"For Merlin's sake," Percy pinched the bridge of his nose and disappeared down the hall to go sort the mysterious Jonathan, leaving Ron alone with Andrew.

"Sorry in advance about Jonathan," Andrew said, "Percy didn't realize he was over when he floo'd and, well," Andrew shrugged as if that settled the matter.

"On the plus side though," Oliver said, coming in from the kitchen and dropping several bottles of beer on the table, "nobody winds Percy up quite as effectively as Jonathan."

Andrew chuckled as Oliver took a seat and slid Ron a second beer without asking. Ron took it gratefully, still wishing he were anywhere else.

"Relax Ron," Oliver said, "I'm well aware that Percy acts logically before he thinks things through sensibly sometimes. We're just here for a few pints, alright?"

"Although we can't promise Jonathan won't make you exceedingly uncomfortable, but that's just Jonathan," Andrew added.

"That's not going to help him relax babe."

Before Andrew could respond, and before Ron could digest the most fanatical quidditch captain Hogwarts had ever seen calling another man 'babe,' Jonathan entered the room, followed by a harassed looking Percy.

"I'm just saying Percy, if you want her to pay any attention, you're going to have to put in some work! My sister is driven and all that but she still puts in some effort! Just because you wear standard robes all day is no excuse to not own a couple of decently trendy outfits for after work hours. Those exist, by the way, non working hours? Don't know if you're familiar? Anyway, you might want to also consider burning those trousers, pleated fronts are never acceptable anymore. And where is our newest prodigy? Ah ha! Ohhh Percy! You've been holding out on us. If this is the youngest of the pack I can't wait to meet the dragon tamer! Jonathan Harlan, at your service, which I assure you will be better service than these two block heads can offer."

Ron had to force himself to close his mouth as Jonathan finished his monologue and offered Ron his hand. He was tall and lean, a bit too skinny, but attractive, his hair so perfectly styled that Ron actually wondered if he'd spelled it that way. He wore stud earrings in both ears, a button up shirt with too many buttons left undone and, Ron suddenly felt himself blushing, impossibly tight jeans.

"Ron," he said at last, and did his best to ignore the smirk on Jonathan's face, as though he'd known Ron had just thoroughly checked him out.

"So, I hear we are gathered for a gay induction ceremony?"

Ron nearly choked on his beer again, only just managing to keep from spraying it all over the table this time as Oliver thumped him on the back.

"Jonathan," Percy warned, conjuring himself an extra chair and taking a seat between Ron and Oliver. "I will not tolerate you harassing my brother. Tone it down a little."

"I'm not harassing him! And he doesn't look like he needs your protection anyway, do you, Mr. Broad Shoulders?" Jonathan turned back to Ron and whistled appreciatively.

Ron went crimson in less than a breath, suddenly unsure where to look.

"Sorry but… can we… who the bloody hell are you?"

"This is Jonathan," Percy supplied, "younger brother of Audrey Harlan. She was in Ravenclaw, few years ahead of you?" Ron just shrugged. The name rang a bell but only vaguely. "Anyway, Jonathan here is a Muggle, just as an FYI, but given his sister is a witch…"

"I get to be tortured by the knowledge that magic is real and that I can't do it," Jonathan chimed in, "but Audrey does keep me supplied with magical hair products that blessedly work on us mere mortals."

Ah. So he'd been partially right about magic keeping it in place.

"Audrey and I met through an internship a couple years ago. I stupidly agreed to take her younger brother out for a friendly drink once he turned of age," Andrew stepped in, "I didn't realize he'd hold me to it nearly a year later and that we'd be stuck with him forever more there after!"

"And your lives are much enriched for it. This one," Jonathan pointed dramatically at Andrew, "never would have had the balls to make a move on Oliver if it weren't for me."

Oliver chuckled as Andrew rolled his eyes in exasperated defeat. "How was I supposed to know he'd be interested?!"

"Oh, I don't know," Percy chimed in, "I can't imagine why else the up and coming reserve keeper, who had every motivation to appear on tip top physical condition, would suddenly have so many injury concerns…"

"I thought he was just paranoid! A lot of the young recruits are…"

"Andrew is one of Puddlemere's medics," Oliver explained for Ron's benefit. "It took him months to realize I was flirting with him."

"I think that might say more about your flirting skills than Andrew's powers of deduction, to be fair," Percy pointed out, easily dodging the cuff Oliver aimed at the back of his head.

"Anyway," Jonathan interjected again, "as I said, it was down to me in the end. I told Andy-boy here he needed to make a move. Oliver is a catch. And besides that, a pro athlete on team queer?! I simply had to meet him. The Muggle world would have a heart attack…"

"So what did you do?" Ron asked, surprising himself slightly. He had decided to say as little as possible the moment Jonathan had referred to him as 'Mr. Broad Shoulders.' But he wanted to know, and was finding himself more at ease the longer the four friends chattered on around him.

"He snogged me," Oliver replied. "I was telling him about a non existent twinge in my elbow and he just went for it."

"Which was a terrible idea really," Jonathan took over, "He, well, he snogged me back, let's be clear about that point, but then," he snorted here, just as Oliver rolled his eyes, "Then he thanked me and left! Couldn't get out of the medic room fast enough!"

"I didn't know what else to do!" Oliver defended, laughing along with his friends. "I'd been trying to get your attention for months and had resolved that I was just going to ask you out and get it over with and then you just… snogged me out of nowhere! I panicked!"

Ron was laughing too now, picturing Oliver politely saying thank your after being snogged. No wonder he and Percy were friends.

"You did panic. Thoroughly," Percy agreed. "I had him here pacing the flat for half an hour, still in his quidditch kit, before I could even get him to properly explain what had happened."

"So how'd you sort it out then?" Ron asked despite himself.

"I sent him straight back to the medic bay," Percy said promptly.

"Thankfully he was still there. So I just barged in, asked him if he wanted to join me for dinner that coming Friday, and that was that."

"We joke that our first date was all sorts of backwards, with the snogging before the dinner and all, but it was a great date anyway." Andrew smiled fondly at Oliver.

Ron felt a bit dizzy. He'd never seen this… a same sex couple. Not like this anyway. He'd seen same sex couples before, vividly remembered the first time he saw two men holding hands in a cafe once as a matter of fact, but that wasn't the same as being at your brother's flat, chatting with his mates over beers, where two of them just happened to be dating each other.

"Alright let's move on before they get soppy. Ron here is new and I want to know all about him," Jonathan propped his chin on his fist, looking expectantly at Ron, after, Ron noticed, he'd looked him up and down with that damned smirk again.

"Uhh…"

"Let's start with the basics," Jonathan plowed ahead, "basics are always best. Oliver's cover story was just the basics and it was such a hit!"

"Oi, can we not go there again, please?" Oliver said with a sigh. "I never wanted that kind of attention…"

"But the team manager thought it'd be good for the team's image and your sponsors loved the press! It was win-win. Plus, don't even get me started on what it does for the community to have someone famous openly gay! Never mind a beef cake athlete like you. Try not to get too starstruck Ron, but Oliver here is quite famous."

Oliver and Percy both barked out a laugh at that, and even Ron had to cover his mouth with his hand to hide his snicker.

"I think I can handle a bit of celebrity at the dinner table thanks," he told Jonathan.

"What've I missed?" Jonathan asked, perplexed.

"First, Ron here played Keeper after me on the school team and is well aware of how famous I'm not, given he understands how quidditch works."

"Hey I think you're doing well mate! First string next season, and Puddlemere are a dead cert for finals…"

"Second," Oliver glossed over Ron's praise, "Ron here is decidedly more famous than I am. And his best friend has been more famous than either of us his entire life."

Ron went a bit red again at this. He wasn't entirely accustomed to being a household name.

"Ooooh. Famous how? Maybe we can get you a magazine cover too."

"War stories don't sell as well mate," Ron said darkly.

"Mmm, sexy masculine brooding type? Where do you find these men Andrew?! You're a war hero then?"

"Jonathan," Andrew warned, "don't push it. Considering Audrey had to go into hiding, in Spain during the war, you know it wasn't a joke. Ron was at the center of that," he glanced apologetically at Ron.

"I'm not daft," Jonathan replied, "I'm fairly certain it was someone named Harry Potter at the center of it all and I doubt he'd appreciate you handing his accolades out to other people."

"Actually, he'd appreciate it very much," Ron said dully.

Jonathan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "...best mate is more famous than… is Harry Potter your best mate? Shit Ron, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

He did look sorry, so Ron just gave him a small shrug and decided to let it roll, figuring Jonathan must know more about the war than he had let on if realizing Ron was friends with Harry Potter had sobered him so quickly.

"Maybe we give Ron a pass tonight," Oliver suggested. "Not all of us came out of the womb and bypassed the closet entirely. Give him a break."

"He does have si… five siblings to make his way through," Percy added, catching Ron's eye at the near slip. They would never get used to saying five siblings.

"Thanks," Ron agreed, "I'd much prefer you lot tell me why Percy would care what this Audrey thinks of his fashion choices?"

Percy instantly went crimson and stared up at the ceiling as his friends began to tease him. It seemed his brother had a bit of a crush.

They bantered for nearly another hour, while Ron relaxed and mostly watched his brother hang out with his friends. They could have been in the dorms; it felt so normal, so comfortable.

Occasionally, Oliver or Andrew would do something that indicated they were more than friends, but they weren't sappy or anything. It was their body language more than anything else, subtle touches, postures that leaned towards each other, and a kiss to the temple to soothe Andrew's ego after one of Jonathan's digs.

This could be normal. Ron thought to himself. This could be me and a partner with Hermione and a boyfriend one day… maybe even Harry and some girl.' Ron watched as Oliver slugged Percy playfully in the arm, earning a genuine wince from the red head despite his laughter. It could be ok.

When at last the trio had departed, with promises to invite Ron along to a pub night, Ron stood with Percy in the kitchen, helping clean away empty beer bottles and glasses.

"I'd better get going too Perce. George is expecting me back tomorrow."

"Of course; don't worry about the dishes, I'll sort them. Did you want to use the Floo or…?"

Ron shook his head. Apparating was easier with all the wards at Grimmauld place.

"Hey Percy, listen, thanks for… thanks for tonight."

Percy smiled. "You're welcome. I knew it would be easier once you saw them together. And I'm sorry if Jonathan made you uncomfortable. He's harmless really, I just wouldn't have chosen to have him along right out the gate like that…"

Ron was shaking his head. Jonathan had made him uncomfortable, more than once, but he seemed like an ok guy, and not that Ron was going to admit it to Percy, but Jonathan's blatant flirting and very clear appreciation for Ron's physical appearance had been a little exhilarating, to say the least.

"He's alright Perce. Maybe needs to tone it down a bit but…"

Ron was cut off abruptly as a small pop distracted him. His eyes widened as Kreacher emerged from the kitchen.

"Master Weasley, Kreacher apologizes for disrupting…"

"Shit," Ron muttered, "I'll be there in just a minute Kreacher. Thank you, you did the right thing."

Kreacher bowed and apparated away. Ron was already moving, gathering his cloak and digging for his wand.

"Ron?" Percy followed him, concern etched into his features.

"It's fine Percy- but I've got to go. I'll owl you in the morning but I promise, everything is fine."

Without waiting for a response, Ron apparated right outside the front step of Grimmauld Place, willing the enchantments to move faster as the building came into view. He raced through the door, chucking his coat and shedding his scarf as he went, until finally bursting into Harry's room, a shield charm already on his lips as he entered, deflecting whatever rogue protection spell Harry had thrown his way with a well practiced ease.

"Harry?" He said, caution laced in his voice. "It's ok mate, it's me. It's Ron."

"Ron?"

Ron flew to the bed the moment the voice responded, relieved. If Harry had been in a full on panic attack then he wouldn't have been able to call his name. Ron knew this, and therefore knew that the best thing he could do was reassure Harry that whatever demon nightmare his subconscious had cooked up wasn't real.

"Yeah, it's me."

He lit the room with a flick of his wand. Harry was sitting propped up against the headboard, knees bent, arms resting on top of them, everything about him tense, but Ron could tell his friend was present, which helped.

"Harry? Talk to me."

Harry wrapped his arms around himself, curling into a tight ball as he tried to pull himself together.

"You weren't here."

"I was at Percy's. I left a note, but I'm safe. You made sure I'm safe."

"...couldn't… you weren't… shit. Sorry…"

Ron perched himself on the mattress next to Harry and put a hand gently on his shoulder. Harry flinched at the touch, but quickly reached his hand up to cover Ron's, letting him know he needed the contact.

"Don't apologize Harry. I know. It's alright."

They sat in silence for several minutes, Ron's hand squeezing Harry's shoulder reassuringly.

"I'm sorry I was an arse this morning."

Ron looked up, surprised to find Harry meeting his eyes.

"You weren't an arse mate. It's a lot to spring on you…"

Harry was shaking his head, dropping his hand from where it was covering Ron's.

"I was an arse Ron, and I'm sorry," Harry ran his fingers through his hair and looked back up at Ron, who had such an expression of concern on his face it made Harry's chest ache.

"We don't have to talk about this now," Ron said, not wanting Harry to get any more worked up. He wasn't sure why Harry was insisting on it considering he'd clearly just fought off a panic attack. He knew Kreacher wouldn't have come for him unless it had been serious, and he could tell Harry was still trembling despite his efforts to hide it.

Harry was shaking his head. "We do. I should have made it clear this morning. I don't want you thinking anything has to change between us. I don't want you thinking I'm not ok with it. I am. You're… you're Ron. I never want anything to come between us being best mates, ok?"

Ron dropped his gaze and swallowed, hard. He should be thrilled. It was all he had hoped to hear from Harry- that nothing had to change. But it was also the proof that best mates was all they would ever be. Ron knew that. He'd always known that. But hearing it said out loud was different.

Bracing himself, he met Harry's eyes and smiled.

"Thanks mate."

Harry nodded, settling the matter, and slowly began to uncurl himself. Ron stood and summoned the kettle and two mugs for tea.

"Do you want any potions…?"

Harry shook his head. He hated those things. The healers had given him a stock of calming draughts but they made his brain feel like sludge. He used them occasionally, but not when he could help it.

Ron handed him a mug of tea and stood awkwardly between the bed and the door. He hadn't really thought about this part… the sleeping part. They never actually discussed the sleeping arrangements. They had just sort of happened. He didn't know if Harry would be… uncomfortable? Disgusted?

"Chess?"

Ron stared at Harry, who was too busy fiddling with his mug of tea to notice. They often played chess after one of them had suffered some sort of nightmare. It was an easy and familiar coping strategy. Usually, they just set the board up on the bed between them, which Harry now seemed intent on doing as he leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve the chessboard from underneath, still not looking over at Ron.

It was an invitation, he realized suddenly. He wasn't sure if Harry was offering or asking, but either way, he was telling Ron he could sleep here without making it obvious.

"Yeah mate," he said at last. "I'm too wired to sleep anyway. I'm just going to go change and I'll be back in a minute."

* * *

**Reviews are very much appreciated.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Thank you ever so much to those of you who have reviewed this thus far; I VERY much appreciate it!**

* * *

**Chapter 4 - In which stubbornness leads to frayed nerves, and self acceptance leads to newfound confidence**

* * *

Christmas at The Burrow was traditionally a rather busy and bustling affair. Aside from the 9 Weasleys, there was the ever revolving door of adopted family making its way through every year, and that wasn't even counting Harry and Fleur.

This year however, there were 8 red-headed Weasleys.

They tried. They all did. But the strain was everywhere, and more than once, someone left the room suspiciously misty eyed.

George had made it through breakfast, managed a few jokes during the gift exchanging, but it seemed that was all he could muster. With a desperate glance at Percy, he'd edged his way out of the room before Molly could spot him. Percy had risen a few minutes later and with a discreet nod to Bill, slipped out of the room to follow George.

It had baffled Ron, the sudden closeness between George and Percy, but stranger things had happened in life, and he wasn't going to complain about a good one. He'd settled his own issues with Percy quickly, as the rest of his siblings had; they had no intention of losing two brothers.

Percy was also changed. Ron often caught himself rolling his eyes when he thought it, because weren't they all? But spending time with Percy and his friends had made his most stodgy brother seem a lot more… human. Percy could actually be quite funny, just so long as you didn't get him started on cauldron bottoms. Bit like Hermione really.

Ron felt a small pang in his chest at the thought of Hermione. She had decided not to come for New Years. While he couldn't blame her, it still stung more than he expected. He missed her. Plain and simple. He and Harry had both been diligent in writing her while she was at Hogwarts, the two of them making sure that between them, she had a few letters every week. But since the holidays and his confession nearly a week ago he'd had barely a word from her. Just a few scrawled notes, usually addressed to both him and Harry together.

He knew Ginny had been to see her, but he was too afraid to ask her about it. Some Gryffindor he was.

Putting that thought to the back of his mind, he shrugged into his coat. He didn't even bother bracing himself for what was next as he found Charlie, smoking behind the chicken coop. Ron had to wonder how many years he'd been doing it before they'd all caught him over the summer.

"I don't know how you managed to keep this from mum all these years. The smell is horrid."

Charlie just grinned and offered the pipe to Ron, who shook his head with a wrinkled nose. He'd stick to the muggle variety, thank you very much.

"So, you're last on my list," Ron started, leaning against the low wall of the coop next to Charlie.

Charlie quirked an eyebrow but didn't comment. Of all Ron's brothers, Charlie was the most unpredictable, and not in the same way as George. Charlie had gone off to Romania at barely 17 and had lived on the reserve ever since. He often struck Ron as being more adult but less mature all at the same time. He always made time for the family, and Ron knew he and Bill were still incredibly close, but Charlie had also built his own family amongst the dragon wranglers. His best mates were a man nearly 10 years older than he was and a woman nearly twice that. Charlie was sharp, like most of his brothers in fairness, but he was also quiet and relatively reserved, not a trait Ron or any of their other siblings could claim.

The previous summer was the longest stretch of time Ron had spent with Charlie since they were kids, and Ron had to admit he was still learning who Charlie even was as an adult. He had a feeling Charlie felt the same way about him.

He tried not to fidget. He'd done this enough times now that he wasn't nervous, not exactly, but he'd still not come up with a way to just get it out there without making it some big proclamation.

Charlie smiled as he finished with the pipe, then drew his wand to cast several charms that removed the smell.

"Shall I spare you?"

Ron just looked at him. Charlie smirked again and turned to face Ron properly.

"Did Bill tell you?" Ron asked, not upset really, but genuinely surprised. Bill was one of the few Weasley siblings you could trust to keep confidence.

Charlie shook his head. "I've known for ages. Or, I've guessed for ages. Nice to have it confirmed though."

Ron stared at Charlie in confusion. "Uh… are you sure we're talking about the same things here?"

"That you're in love with Harry?"

Ron blanched, full on body jerked, his eyes bugging wide. He was certain he would have choked to death if he'd been eating.

Charlie raised an eyebrow again. "Sorry, were you going to start with just telling me you're gay? I've known that since you were eight Ron."

Ron said nothing for nearly a minute, staring at Charlie as though he had 3 heads.

"I'm… sorry… _what?! _Would you stop bloody grinning at me like that! How the… _eight_?"

This was… well, Ron didn't know what this was. While they all seemed to settle into the idea relatively easily upon reflection, there wasn't a single person that hadn't been genuinely surprised initially by the revelation he was gay. Not one. And here was Charlie, who in some ways Ron felt barely knew him, telling him he'd known since he was eight years old?

"Easy Ron. I would have thought you'd prefer not having to spend half an hour convincing me."

In fairness, that would have been nice, if not for the shock. He continued to look at Charlie, though only as if he had two heads now. Charlie sighed and conjured two camp chairs, gesturing for Ron to take a seat.

"I know we don't talk much," Charlie began once Ron got himself comfortable, "and I'm sorry for that. I'm not blaming myself or anyone really, it's just a statement of fact. This last year… Merlin Ron. It gives a person a lot of perspective… and losing Fred..."

Ron's head was spinning. Where the bloody hell was this coming from? He didn't much feel like examining Charlie's inner musings, and he definitely didn't want to talk about Fred right now. He had resolved to make it through Christmas day in one piece in front of his mother (and George). He'd wait until this evening, when she thought they'd all gone home, to have too many shots of Ogdens at George's flat. If he cried a bit then, no one would notice. Or they'd be too busy crying themselves. Either option worked for him.

"Charlie, no offence here, but what are you blathering on about exactly?"

Charlie sighed and looked away from Ron for a moment.

"Sorry," he said finally. "I've just been a bit out of sorts lately. I watch things Ron. It's one of the things that makes me so good at my job. I notice the small, subtle stuff with the dragons and I've got the record for the lowest number of burn scars as a result. It's not so different with people. Anyway, when you were eight, we were shopping in the village and there was a couple in a cafe, two men, I doubt you remember…"

"I remember," Ron said abruptly. He was more surprised that Charlie did.

"Mmm. Maybe that makes more sense actually. Ginny pointed it out, I don't really remember what she said exactly, but Bill told her to be quiet. I think he just didn't want her making a scene, probably didn't mean anything by it. You know Gin though. She pressed the issue and finally Bill said 'sometimes that's just how it happens Gin. You don't need to make a spectacle about it. I know…'"

"...It's not very normal," Ron finished quietly.

He remembered. Vividly. He'd been too young to really know what he was feeling, but he knew very clearly that he was supposed to think two men holding hands was weird, and that it shouldn't bother him that his big brother didn't think it was normal. He didn't have the self awareness or the words as an eight year old to explain why he felt like Bill had punched him.

"I don't know how you figured..."

"It was all over your face," Charlie explained. "You looked like you'd been slapped. I should have said something, because I knew something pivotal had just happened, I just... " He sighed here and shrugged helplessly, "I learned early on that people don't actually like it when you point out all of your observations. I wish I had in this case though. I'd started to think I had it wrong since… don't take this the wrong way but 18 is a bit late to come out."

Ron snorted at this. That was probably a fair point, but considering he and his friends were usually caught up in surviving, sorting his dating life out had taken more of a back seat. They sat in silence for several minutes, Ron debating whether he wanted to broach his next question.

"You should know," Charlie broke the silence before Ron could make up his mind, "It's not abnormal. Sexuality is much more of a spectrum in my personal experience."

"Huh?"

Charlie ran a hand through his hair as he looked up at Ron.

"Look, I've been with a few blokes. Generally, I prefer women, but you know…"

Ron most certainly did _not_ know. Bloody hell…

"Do you… are you telling me… you… hang on a second…"

Charlie forced out a breath and turned to face Ron properly. "Look, I'm not gay Ron. You might be able to make an argument that I'm 'Bi,' I suppose, but like I said, I think it's more of a spectrum really. I debated about even telling you, because honestly, it's not a regular thing for me, but I figured if anyone could make use of the information…"

Ron was back to looking at Charlie as though he had three heads. Make _use_ of the information? _What_ the bloody hell… what the _actual _bloody hell…

"Are you telling me you can like both? How is that fair?"

Charlie laughed. "Spectrum Ron! A hand on your cock is hand on your cock, who cares if it's a man's or a woman's?"

"_I _do," Ron said immediately, surprised by how readily the response came to him.

"So women genuinely do nothing for you then?"

Ron just shook his head and stared at Charlie as though he'd never seen him before, which, the more he considered it, the more he thought maybe he never had.

"Put it this way Charlie, I spent the better part of a month with my tongue down the throat of the girl with the best tits in my year, so I'm told. Had she ever ventured any lower, she would have been sorely disappointed. Kissing Hermione was nice I guess, but… not… not nice like the boys locker room after a quidditch match was nice, if you get what I mean. Besides, do you honestly think I'd put myself through this shit if I could just say 'sod it' and date girls instead?"

Charlie just shrugged, smiling, though Ron thought it was the first time in years he'd seen Charlie looking anything other than coolly confident.

"Like I said then. Spectrum."

"Well lucky you if you get to live in the middle," Ron grumbled. They lapsed into silence again before a new thought dawned on him. "Uhg. My straight-ish brother has gotten more male action than me and I'm actually gay!"

Charlie laughed again, already back to his comfortable demeanor. "Oh don't be so dramatic. I'm sure you've…" he trailed off at the fierce look Ron was giving him, despite the fact he'd gone completely crimson. "Ah… so… not so much? You and Harry haven't…?"

"Harry?" Ron snapped, forgetting his embarrassment for a moment. "Why would I… no. We never… Harry's straight Charlie. Like, _actually_ straight."

"You sure about that?"

"Course I'm sure! He's my best mate. He dated Ginny! And I think it would have come up at some point in the last 8 years!"

"What, like it's come up with _you_ in the last 8 years?"

Well that was a fair point.

Charlie sighed again and shook his head, smirking. "Ron, I don't want to wreak havoc on you here, but you and Harry… not so typical as far as mates go."

Ron rolled his eyes at this. "Tell me something I don't know."

Charlie's expression softened at this. "No, Ron, I'm being serious. This summer… Look, I don't really know Harry well enough, or even _you_ well enough if we're being entirely honest here, to know what exactly is going on, but I'm telling you, whatever this is with you and Harry, it's not just friendly."

Ron shook his head. He didn't know how to explain the years of friendship and sacrifice and battles and grief and anxiety and Merlin knew what else that had forged the relationship he had with Harry. He could accept that it wasn't normal, or that 'friendly' wasn't the appropriate word for it. But that didn't make it sexual. Or romantic.

"Have you told him?"

"That I'm a poof? Yeah he knows. He… he's been ok about it I guess? Not great, but ok."

Charlie studied his youngest brother's face carefully, resigning himself to the fact that he would get nowhere on this particular path.

He'd known Ron had it bad for Harry since the summer. Harry may as well have been the sun, the way Ron orbited around him. It had taken him longer to notice that the orbiting wasn't one sided, and apparently Ron was still oblivious. He'd even sensed the shift in them today, the subtle distance, but still with ever watchful eyes on each other.

Ron kept looking at him as though he were a stranger and he hated it. He hated that most of his siblings had only a surface level understanding of who he was, and vice versa. How had Bill avoided the same fate? The age gap was even larger for Bill, and he'd been in Egypt for ages! Not exactly local.

Ron seemed to be struggling with something internally, pulling Charlie away from his brooding and was turning red before he'd even said anything.

"What is it?"

Ron went from red to scarlett, no longer meeting Charlie's eyes.

"What's it… I mean… how do you even know if a bloke even…"

Charlie put a hand on Ron's shoulder, causing his younger brother to look up at him at last, ending his stammering.

"It comes way more naturally than you think, I promise. Besides, you aren't looking for some quick shag, otherwise I'd offer to take you to some bars I know..."

"Who says I don't want a quick shag?"

Charlie chuckled. "Don't kid yourself Ron. I'm not saying you wouldn't enjoy it, just that it's not really what you're looking for, is it?"

"This from you? Who is apparently a bit of a man-whore on the reserve?"

"Oh don't you start. I get enough shit from Bill about my lack of, what does he call it? _Commitment_. Just because I don't fancy being in a relationship doesn't mean I shag anything that breathes. Which is sort of the point I'm making here Ron. You _want_ a relationship. There's nothing wrong with that."

"How do you know?" Ron challenged.

Charlie just smirked. "Tell you what Ron, when I'm back over the summer, if you still think you want to go on the pull, I'll take you myself."

Ron furrowed his brow, trying to decide if Charlie was serious. "You… you will? And you think I could… that I'd…"

"Oh you could pull," Charlie said with a laugh, "Have you seen yourself lately Ron? You're not exactly a scrawny kid anymore."

Ron didn't really know what to say to that, so settled for blushing silently.

"C'mon," Charlie said, hauling himself up and sticking a hand out to Ron. "Mum will start fretting, and I think Bill wants us all in the same room when he announces Fleur's pregnant."

"What?" Ron blinked, frozen halfway out of his chair.

Charlie grinned even as he let out a sigh of resignation. "Care to bet me on it?"

Ron studied him for a moment, replaying how deadly accurate Charlie's observations had proven thus far.

"I think I'll take your word for it."

Later that night, when the 6 Weasley siblings and Harry were crammed into George's tiny flat, Ron was relieved to not be the only person teary eyed as they toasted Fred a happy Christmas, followed by a much more boisterous toast to Bill as they ribbed him for a good half hour about entering fatherhood.

It still caught him off guard sometimes that they could hurt so deeply but laugh at the same moment.

George was keeping his bargain of not commenting on Ron's sexuality, but he could see his brother's resolve was fraying when his other siblings, who had made no such bargains, decided Bill shouldn't be the only one having the mick taken out of him. When at last, even Harry joined in on the light teasing, Ron suddenly felt the world shift slightly. Whatever the damage, his family were all here, still loving him, and he was whole.

* * *

Here lies Harry Potter, who twice survived the killing curse, only to surrender his sanity less than a year later; may he Rest In Peace.

Withstanding the battering of his mind via legilimens? No problem.

Enduring the trauma of witnessing a murder and the resurrection of evil in the same night? Got it covered.

Braving possession by a Dark Lord? Child's play.

But proximity to a stupidly tall, overly freckled, redhead? Done for. Completely, utterly, done for.

He had to get a grip. He'd been _trying_ to get a grip for weeks now, but it felt futile. Ever since New Years, ever since Ron had started walking around like some… some self assured, confident... _man_, Harry had barely managed to be in the same room with him without embarrassing himself.

He'd been alright at first. Mostly. Things had stayed pretty normal at the house. But that was rapidly falling apart. Anytime Ron got too close to him, Harry thought he might explode. The usual back slaps when they bantered, or brushing up against one another as they shuffled around the kitchen making breakfast, were now charged with an electrical current that Harry simply couldn't cope with. He couldn't tell if Ron noticed too or if it was all in his own head. He was so tense he thought he might snap at any moment. It was sexual tension. He knew that. But he didn't have the slightest idea what the bloody hell he was supposed do about it.

So he was reacting the only way he knew how; he avoided touching Ron like he was something diseased and otherwise ignored the situation entirely.

It wasn't that Harry begrudged Ron his newfound confidence. It was clear that coming out had done something for his friend that years of trying to stand out from his brothers and friends never could, but it had _changed_ him. Not fundamentally. Not in a way that made Harry question who Ron was or anything. But he _was_ different. Like suddenly the last shackles of Ron's self consciousness had fallen away and he was lighter. He wasn't so easily embarrassed. He wasn't so easily wound up. His self deprecating humour had lost its painful edge and when he poked fun at himself his smile actually reached his eyes.

Harry had been forced to acknowledge other things too. Things he'd rather not think about if he had any hope of keeping himself under control. Like the fact that he'd suddenly realized that Ron didn't look 16 anymore. Harry was certain this hadn't happened overnight, but when you lived in the near constant proximity as he and Ron had the last several years, you tended to miss these things.

Ron had always been tall, sure, but like most teenage boys that grew too quickly, he'd always had the look of somebody who had been stretched out too thinly across his bones, his arms and legs too big for the rest of him. Now though, his shoulders seemed to match his frame, spanning rather magnificently, in Harry's opinion, and his arms and chest were muscled enough to lose the starved scarecrow look he'd sported for several months after the war.

Ron himself seemed slightly oblivious to the change, as he was forever baffled that his old cannons t shirts no longer fit properly. He'd even ripped one recently, which was completely ridiculous in Harry's opinion. It's not like Ron had become some buffed up Adonis, but you couldn't deny the change when your bloody t shirts started ripping at the breakfast table. Ron kept wearing them anyway, more out of laziness than anything else, the logo stretched painfully tight across his chest, the sleeves straining across biceps that Harry swore _never_ used to be there months prior. Harry couldn't decide if he should burn the lot of them or beg Ron to wear nothing else ever again.

The most striking thing was the overall effect though. Harry didn't think Ron realized that when he was sat next to Bill at The Burrow, he looked like he _belonged _there, as Bill's peer, not as his kid brother. He expected the effect would be ruined moments later when the two broke out into some unexplained, brotherly, wrestling match, but it only served to emphasize the point as Ron held his own against the brother with the most practice at subduing 6 younger siblings.

He wasn't the only one who was noticing either. The few times he'd ventured out to the shop, forcing George to let Ron take a lunch, or occasionally forcing _George_ to take a lunch, Harry realized that several of the female customers had a lot of very specific questions for Ron about some very basic products. Ron always seemed clueless about the fact that these witches didn't actually give a damn about the feather quality of the canary creams, which provided George and Harry with plenty of entertainment, but occasionally there would be an interaction where even Ron wasn't dense enough to miss what was happening. Those occasions had only provided further entertainment.

Harry was in trouble now though and he knew it. There had been an instance last week in which George had nudged Harry conspiratorially and flicked his eyes over to where Ron was assisting a customer. Harry had been confused at first until he realized that the customer fawning over Ron this time was _not_ a witch. Nor were they fawning. Not really. The wizard was doing an admirable job at some _actual _flirting. And dear god… was Ron flirting _back_? Ron didn't flirt. Ron had no bloody idea how to flirt. ...Right?

Harry had lost his head. Forgetting that George was watching, fully expecting Harry to enjoy the free entertainment as they usually did, Harry had barged over to Ron and interrupted, loudly, blatantly ignoring the wizard as he dragged Ron off for lunch. Ron hadn't seemed particularly put out at being interrupted, but he'd given Harry a funny look for a very long time afterwards.

Worse, Harry hadn't been able to look George in the eye since. It wasn't as if he thought George _knew._ There were a million reasons why Harry might have intentionally interrupted Ron flirting, probably for the first time publicly and comfortably ever, with a maybe OK looking bloke, but none of them were particularly noble or flattering.

Why did the universe hate him? Wasn't being marked as the 'Chosen One' enough? Why had the universe decided to awaken in him this whole crazy idea of his sexuality at the same time it had decided that Ron Weasley should be about the most fanciable person in Wizarding Britain? He wasn't even making that up! Witch Weekly had published an article the other week that had listed both of them as two of Britain's most eligible bachelors, along with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Neville Longbottom (George had thoroughly enjoyed that particular article).

Harry tried to focus on all the annoying things about Ron. It was a new strategy he was trying out whenever they were in a room together.

Ron still ate like every meal was his last. It was gross. Not the slightest bit endearing.

Ron always left his boots by the door, rather than put them away somewhere. This wasn't the countryside. It wouldn't do to have a pile of muddy wellingtons pilled at the entryway, even if it did remind him of the homeyness of The Burrow.

Ron snored sometimes… nope. Thinking about Ron within the context of a bed was not allowed in this little game.

Ron had hurt their best friend. Uhg. He hated to use that one against him, even if only in his head.

Ron was absurdly ungracious when he got jealous. Except he didn't really seem to be jealous much these days.

Ron was…

Fucking hell.

Ron was currently holding Teddy Lupin up over his head, laughing along with the baby as he brought him down to blow raspberries on his belly.

"Mahaha! I gotcha!"

Teddy squealed in response, giggling madly, his hair going ginger as Ron pulled him back down for more raspberries.

Harry stepped into the hallway, pretending to head towards the kitchen, and banged his head against the wall. He was doomed.

* * *

"I don't buy it."

"What's not to buy?

Ron was quickly becoming exasperated. He'd conceded to answering Jonathan's 'basic' questions, but once they'd covered his age (very nearly 19), weight (about 14 stone maybe?), height (6'3", taller than Bill by half an inch, and taller than Percy by a full inch, thank you very much), and the breadth of his shoulders (why the bloody hell would I know the width of my shoulders off the top of my head?), there was very little else that qualified as basic about Jonathan's questions.

They'd established quickly that Ron's experience with other blokes was exactly nil, which had led to an investigation of what the hell he'd been doing for the entirety of his post puberty life. Again, not exactly basic.

"You're telling me that you were the thing he'd miss most, but there is nothing going on between you two? You're just 'mates'?" Jonathan put the 'mates' in air quotes, looking at Ron as though he were completely off his nut.

"Fleur went in after her sister. How's it different?"

"Are you hearing this Percy?" Jonathan asked, incredulous. "She was her _sister_. You're _not_ his brother. The other two boys went in after…? Say it again. I want you to hear yourself. Who did the other boys dive in to rescue…?"

"The girls they fancied," Ron mumbled.

"Right. And you don't think that's suspicious at all?! Good grief no wonder you've never gotten any."

Ron scowled. Jonathan was missing the point. Harry had never had any family that gave a damn about him before Ron. Fleur and Gabrielle, _sisters_. Harry and Ron, _brothers_. It fit. And besides that, it had taken Ron the better part of a year to stop reading into the whole thing. He didn't need to re-analyse it all over again now.

"I'm just saying. You could've at least tried to give him a thank you kiss or something. You clearly fancy him anyway."

"What?"

"Harry. You fancy him right? You're holding out for him too, I can tell."

"That's not… I never said… why would you…"

Jonathan laughed and slid a second beer across to Ron.

"Never play poker Ron," Percy said blandly.

"Oh come on. Not you too."

Percy just shook his head.

"If it helps, Andrew owes me 5 sickles," Oliver said with a grin.

Ron put his face in his hands.

"Can we move on please?" He said through his fingers.

"_Fiiiine_," Jonathan sighed. "Since you've no juicy details to share. I still don't really get how you ended up with… _nothing_ though. You're plenty good looking enough. What were you doing 5th and 6th years?"

Ron snorted. "Apart from dueling death eaters, helping run an illegal homework club, scarring myself up after wrestling with a tank of brains, and trying to keep my best mate alive?" Jonathan blinked at him, clearly torn between asking about what half of that meant before Ron continued, "I was making out with a girl named Lavender and sporting the nickname Won-Won."

"You _didn't_! Won-won?! Good god man! Have you no self respect?!"

"None, clearly. Self _preservation_ on the other hand…"

Percy was frowning at him. "I didn't know you dated Lavender Brown."

Ron just gave him a look, causing Percy to flush crimson. There were a lot of things Percy didn't know. But he _was_ trying, even Ron had to admit it.

"What exactly did you think you were preserving by going around as Won-won?" Oliver asked, attempting to break the brief moment of tension for Percy's sake.

"Yes," Jonathan added, "do explain how _that_ preserved any shreds of your masculinity?"

Ron blinked, confused. "My masculinity? What's that go to do with anything? I… bloody hell, I was never really concerned about _that_. I was just… I don't know. My denial ran deep. _Really_ deep. I was preserving the idea that I was normal, I guess."

"What's not normal about how you feel naturally?" Jonathan asked, an edge to his voice.

"Jonathan," Oliver warned, "You know that's not how he meant it."

Jonathan huffed and rolled his eyes at Oliver. "First of all, I really don't need you censoring me. Andrew does enough of it without you getting in on the act too." He spun around to face Ron again. "Second of all, _you_ are perfectly _normal_ being your natural damn self. Tell me, how _normal _did you feel with your tongue down that Fuschia girl's throat?"

"Uhh…"

"I'm serious. How normal did you feel?"

Ron blinked at Jonathan, too surprised by his frankness to be offended, or even annoyed. He'd felt awful dating Lavender. Not just awful… like a fraud. Worse than that had been kissing her. He'd felt awkward and out of sorts and mostly just a little grossed out.

"Not particularly normal." he said at last.

"I didn't think so. How about now? You're out to your family right? And your best friends know by now, yeah? Have you been around them since? You're here with Percy, sitting in his kitchen with his gay best friend and his _suuuper_ gay other friend. How do you feel?"

Ron looked at Oliver and Percy for help, but they were just looking at him with grins that he felt bordered on smug. He didn't know what he had done to earn this level of interrogation. He'd been counting on Percy and Oliver to defend him from this muggle menace with his impossibly tight trousers and his brash questions.

How _did _he feel though? Ever since Christmas he'd felt… better. He couldn't quite find the word. But he definitely felt _something _he hadn't felt prior to coming out. New Year's at The Burrow a few nights ago had brought that same warm feeling he'd had at George's flat on Christmas night. He'd just been with his family, and Harry, teasing Percy about how excited he was about a super boring report he had to write at work, arguing with Charlie about which teams were likely to make it through to the world cup, and laughing when Ginny demanded he back her up when Bill began fuming about the fact she'd been to Hogsmeade with no less than three different boys last term, because 'they were _fit,'_ and she'd be 'crazy to have said no, right Ron?'

It had been nice. Joining the family banter, the family teasing, and not feeling like he was being intentionally wound up because he was guarding something…

_Comfortable._ He realized suddenly. The word was comfortable. He felt good just as he was… _normal._

"Normal," he said aloud, looking up at Jonathan with a slightly startled expression. "I feel normal. I've felt…"

"Like you're finally in the right skin?" Oliver offered.

"Yeah. Yes. Exactly that."

Jonathan grinned at him. "Welcome to life outside the closet, mate."

Harry trudged up the stairs to George's flat more reluctantly than usual. It wasn't that he minded hanging out with George, but the odd look George had given him when he showed up made him uneasy.

He'd come to the shop thinking he'd convince Ron to grab a curry with him. He'd been stuck in the house too long, and people began to fret about him if he didn't willingly go out in public from time to time. He wasn't intentionally a hermit, contrary to popular opinion, he just genuinely didn't have a whole lot to do these days.

He'd forgotten that Ron would be at Percy's tonight though. Ron was there a lot lately, usually with Oliver and his boyfriend and some muggle friend of theirs who as far as Harry could tell made Ron extremely nervous. He didn't like to think about why.

He could have joined him. Ron had invited him more than once, even seemed a little annoyed that Harry kept refusing, but Harry was still alternating between trying to act normal around his best friend and blatantly avoiding him, the conflict of the second option often negating the acting normal part.

Things had been increasingly tense at the house. Not just the sexual kind of tense, though that was certainly still there, but an edgy, snappy kind of tense. He kept getting short with Ron in his attempts to avoid him, or making excuses for why he didn't want to be near Ron. The old Ron would probably have snapped right back just as childishly as Harry was, Harry had been counting on it actually, but this new, less flappable Ron just seemed confused, and on occasion, straight up angry or hurt when Harry was being particularly unfair.

He'd been hoping grabbing a curry would be a peace offering of sorts. Being alone in public would somehow be easier than being alone with Ron in private maybe? It didn't make any sense really. He wanted to be around Ron. He missed the easy camaraderie they'd fallen into at the house. He missed Ron altogether, which was stupid considering how much time they spent in the same place.

"Knut for your thoughts?"

Harry shook himself and realized he'd been standing in George's doorway for several minutes. He shrugged and gave George a half hearted smile and followed him out to his balcony (though Harry wasn't convinced it actually qualified as such).

They settled in easily, Harry refusing the offered cigarettes. Too many muggle anti smoking campaigns rang in his head anytime he'd tried them before. That, and he couldn't seem to manage them without coughing up a lung.

Harry watched George as he watched the chimneys. He looked a little better these days, in Harry's opinion, but he still had a certain drawn quality about him. None of them knew how to talk about it, so they didn't, figuring the best they could do was keep showing up. They'd found it wasn't a good idea to let George be on his own for long stretches. At the end of the war, they'd counted those stretches in hours. Now they used days, which was certainly better.

"You going to tell me why you're being such a prick to my brother?"

"What?" Harry asked, startled.

George just turned and pinned Harry with a look that rivaled some of Hermione's more intimidating glares.

The funny thing about the 5 stages of grief was that there wasn't actually a real, tried and true progression as far as Harry could tell. You could be in denial one moment, angry the next, bargaining another and back to angry in the span of a single day or week. George tended to favour anger. Usually it was fine. Occasionally it meant he found himself in the center of a pub brawl. And every now and then it made him mean when he wasn't trying to be. Or, it could just be George, without the counterbalance of Fred to soften the grittier side of their humor. Harry wasn't entirely sure which category this glare fell into.

"Seriously," Harry tried, when it became clear George thought he should know, "what are you on about?"

George took a drag of his cigarette and turned back towards the chimneys. For a moment, Harry didn't think George was going to say anything more, until finally the red head let out a sigh.

"Do you have a problem with Ron being a flaming homo?"

"What?" Harry demanded. "Of course not! Why would you think…"

"_Hey_," George interrupted sharply, "I'm not the one marching around like a surly arsehole anytime Ron happens to be out with other poofters, and I'm certainly not the one interrupting Ron's attempts, however hilarious, to get his leg over, now am I?"

Harry clenched his jaw. He knew interrupting Ron with the flirting bloke was going to come back to bite him. He didn't need this right now.

"I don't have any issues with his sexuality George, ok? It's none of your business anyway."

"None of my… Are you _trying_ to rile me up here Potter? He's _happy_ ok? Have you bloody seen him lately?"

Harry growled and raked his hands through his hair. "Yes, I have. But I have no idea what that's got to do with you thinking I have a problem with him being gay!"

"Oh for fuck's sake!" George was yelling now, "Explain it to me then Harry! Explain what you were doing dragging him away from that bloke the other day, huh?"

"I wasn't dragging him away!" Harry shouted, surprised at his own volume. "I came to take him to lunch so I went to go get him! That's it!"

"Ha! Fine. Whatever you say Harry. But I'm telling you, if you get in the way of him being whoever the bloody hell he wants to be, I will knock you into next week, do you understand me?"

"Are you threatening me?" Harry couldn't quite keep the shock out of his voice. George had never spoken to him like this. Ever. If he was being honest though, he wasn't opposed to a fight, and George was always ready for one these days.

"Yes," George replied without hesitation. "You may think you're ok with it Harry, and hell, maybe I even believe you, but _Ron doesn't. _He may be a thick git sometimes, but he's always stuck by you when it counted, and he deserves the same from you."

Harry suddenly felt as though he'd been slapped and was momentarily speechless. How could George think he wasn't sticking by Ron? Of _course_ he would stick by Ron!

"Fuck off George," he bit out angrily. "You've spent most of your life making him miserable and embarrassing the shit out of him every chance you get! Where do you get off telling _me_ I'm not sticking by him?"

George stood up abruptly and for a brief moment Harry braced himself for a fist in his face. It never came, and when he opened his eyes it was to find George right in front of him, practically snarling.

"I'm his brother," George said evenly, and Harry knew somewhere in the back his mind that George no longer shouting was a very bad sign. "I'm willing to admit that I haven't been a very great one over the years, but let me make something very clear: me taking the piss is _not_ the same as you not sticking up for him. Not even close. I may torture Ron, but he knows I love him and accept him just as he is. _You_ on the other hand are doing a shit job of making that part clear lately. You're part of this family Harry, which is why I'm not holding any punches here. I wouldn't for any of my other brothers either."

"I don't want to be Ron's brother," Harry growled, the words coming out of his mouth of their own accord, without his permission.

"Excuse me?"

Shit. This was bad. Out of context it was probably the most insulting thing he could have said. George of all people had just admitted he counted Harry as one of his brothers and he had responded with… well… shit. He clenched his fists, angry at George for choosing now to be defensive of Ron. Choosing now to lecture Harry on the art or brotherhood. Choosing now to lecture Harry full stop.

"That's not how I meant that…"

"How the bloody hell did you mean it then?"

"Just sod off George!"

"For fuck's sake Harry what is your problem?!" George was back to yelling again, and Harry clung to the familiar territory like a lifeline. Yelling he could do.

"I don't have a problem! You're the one making assumptions and speeches about what I think!"

"They're not assumptions, they're _observations_ you prat! And you've yet to offer any sort of satisfactory explanation!"

"I don't owe you an explanation!"

"Oh no? Not even for the comment about not wanting to be my brother?"

"I said I don't want to be _Ron's_ brother."

"Which makes even less sense!"

"WELL BEING HIS BROTHER WOULD MAKE WANTING TO SHAG HIM EVEN MORE BLOODY CONFUSING THAN IT ALREADY IS!"

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

_SHIT._

George stared at Harry in the deafening silence that followed for a full minute before the blood stopped roaring in Harry's ears long enough for the anger to drain out of him.

"I think I'll have that cigarette after all, if you don't mind."

George didn't bother opening the pack and instead silently handed Harry his half finished cigarette and sat back down in his chair, Harry's intermittent coughing the only sound for quite some time.

"So…"

"There's not much else to say George."

George sighed. "This is why I don't bother with trying to be the 'good' brother," he muttered.

"He really thinks I've got a problem with him?" Harry asked quietly.

George just sighed again. "What's he supposed to think Harry? He said you even asked him to spend less time with Teddy."

Harry winced. "That's not what I said."

"It's what he heard."

Harry leaned forward and put his head in his hands, cursing.

"I don't know what to do," he said into his hands.

"You're not seriously asking me are you? Merlin, between this and Percy's obsession with this Audrey woman I ought to start charging by the hour…"

Harry leaned back and sunk low in his chair, head still in his hands.

George rolled his eyes. "Just tell him Harry. It can't possibly be that complicated."

Harry looked up, his expression incredulous. "Name one thing more complicated than this George. One!"

"I'm sleeping with my dead twin brother's ex-girlfriend." George replied, deadpan.

"Uhh…"

George just arched an eyebrow at Harry with a small smirk.

"Fred was with Angelina?"

George just nodded, not offering any further comment, which all things considered, was fair enough.

"I don't know how you even date a bloke." Harry admitted.

"You didn't say anything about dating him."

Harry buried his face into his hands again. "I don't know why the hell I'm still talking." he mumbled.

George laughed, surprising both of them, and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Because you've clearly been bottling this up for Merlin knows how long. Does anyone else even know?"

"Hermione."

"...Ouch."

"Tell me about it."

"Well you obviously need to do something about it. If I didn't know any better, I'd guess that Harry Potter just picked a fight with me for no real reason and ended up accidentally confessing his deepest secrets in a burst of fury."

Harry groaned. "Don't try to pretend you knew what you were doing."

"No arguments there mate. You think I want to be the sounding board for everyone's romantic issues? Let's get it over with. Are you gay or just creepily into Ron? Do you want to date him or shag him? Those are two different things you realize. Oooh are you maybe just working your way through all of us? Am I next?"

Harry clenched his jaw. "I don't know that I actually want to talk about this."

"The evidence is not in your favour."

"Ok, I don't know _how_ to talk about this. Especially with you… no offence."

"Fine. But I will say this, you need to sort out what you're telling Ron, because you're hurting him. I meant it earlier when I said I have no intention of letting you get away with that, even if I thought you're reasons were different."

"I'll figure it out."

"Really?"

"Yes. Eventually. I don't want him thinking I'm not supportive or whatever. I'll figure something out."

"I still say you should just tell him…"

"George…"

"Alright, alright!"

* * *

**Please Review :-)**


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:** In which Harry cracks, and _"Merlin yes..." _

* * *

"I think he'd like it."

"And I'm telling you, he most certainly wouldn't."

"Just because _you_ hate clubs..."

Ron watched in amusement as Jonathan needled his brother. Despite the fact that Percy was completely right, Ron probably _would_ hate going to a muggle club, it was still fun to watch someone else rile Percy up for a change.

"Give it a rest you two," Oliver sighed before wincing as Andrew applied more pressure to his shoulder. "Bloody hell Andrew…"

"Sorry, but you really did a number on yourself," Andrew said, frowning as he re-charmed the cool pack and applied it to Oliver's shoulder, earning a hiss from the Keeper.

"I'll be fine. Just need to…"

"Just need to _rest up_. Medic's orders."

Oliver scowled. "Protective boyfriend's orders more like."

Andrew shook his head and pressed a kiss to Oliver's temple, ignoring the grumpy look on his face.

"It's one practice Oliver. I'm not asking you to sit the season out."

"Still as obsessed as ever," Percy said, shaking his head. "There's more to life than quidditch Oliver."

Oliver just rolled his eyes in response.

"Why are you so keen to get me to go to a club anyway?" Ron asked, turning the attention away from the brooding Oliver.

Jonathan looked back at Ron and arched an eyebrow, as though confused Ron had to ask.

"What've I missed now?" he groaned. He was getting used to Jonathan finding him incurably clueless. In his defence, it was usually about muggle related things, but still.

"Why am I keen to get you to a club? Ron darling, do you not understand how clubbing works?"

When it was clear Ron didn't have the faintest idea, Jonathan looked torn between amusement and pity. Again, Ron was getting used to this. Despite the fact Jonathan drove him mental most of the time, both from his dramatics and his uncanny ability to embarrass Ron in a way even his brothers couldn't manage, Ron found him… helpful. Jonathan was confident, proud, and keen to introduce Ron into his world, even if a bit more enthusiastically than Ron was ready for at times. Even with the teasing and mock pity, Jonathan always answered his questions, even the ones he didn't ask aloud.

"He wants you to engage in some form of fornication," Percy said calmly, flicking lazily through a copy of quidditch quarterly. "However, it is entirely possible to attend a club and not put yourself at risk of some sort of venereal disease. Some people happen to just enjoy drinking and dancing."

Ron wrinkled his nose at Percy as Jonathan let out a snort.

"Eloquently put as usual Percy, but in essence, correct."

"So you want me to go clubbing with you to get me laid? Just making sure I'm following…"

Jonathan shrugged. "Laid… consensually groped… somewhere in between. Whatever takes your fancy." He furrowed his brow suddenly. "Though I'm going to have to teach you muggle safety. Don't want you to miss out because you suddenly realize you can't protect yourself without a wand like some people I know…"

"Oi," Andrew interjected, "I thought we agreed that story could die now that I'm in a committed relationship… with a _wizard_ I'd like to add."

Jonathan just smiled sweetly at Andrew and threw a wink at Oliver before turning his attention back to Ron.

"So? You up for it?"

Ron felt like his head was going to explode. On the one hand, yes, getting laid or somewhere near about sounded bloody fantastic. But then there was stupid Charlie's assessment of that idea ringing in his ears, not to mention the very shocking realization that, as Jonathan assumed, Ron had no idea how to have safe sex with a muggle. Surely this was some grievous gap in his education? How had it not occurred to whoever wrote the sex ed course all third years went through that some of them may end up sleeping with muggles, rendering the use of contraceptive and protection spells completely impractical!?

He was also vaguely aware that the type of clubs Jonathan likely had in mind didn't necessarily lend themselves to full name introductions, or even proper invitations to one's flat. Ron wasn't always as naive as he let Jonathan think, and he didn't feel he particularly wanted his first hand job to be in the gent's loo at some seedy nightclub, however differently his cock felt about that idea.

"Um… maybe not so much?"

"Why?"

Ron sighed. He should have known Jonathan wouldn't just let it go.

"I don't know. I don't… I just don't think I'd like… that." he finished lamely, keeping his eyes resolutely on his drink.

Jonathan watched him for a minute before letting out a low whistle.

"You've got it bad mate."

"Huh?"

Percy looked up from where he, Oliver, and Andrew had started a game of exploding snap (or more accurately, Andrew and Percy had started a game in an attempt to get Oliver to stop brooding over his injury).

"He's talking about Harry," Percy said simply.

Ron felt his blush deepen as he shook his head. "What's that got to do with anything? Harry's straight. Doesn't matter if I… it just doesn't matter."

"It wouldn't matter if you were actually attempting to get over him, but you're obviously not. Which is fine and all, but eventually you're going to have to decide when you're done pining over what you can't have and actually attempt to meet someone."

"That's assuming Potter's actually straight," Oliver piped in suddenly.

Ron swiveled in his chair to look at Oliver properly, his face full of confusion.

"You know he is," he said accusingly.

Oliver just shrugged with his uninjured shoulder. "I don't know anything one way or the other. But I think it's worth a conversation with him. I'm not saying he's not straight, I'm just saying it's worth an investigation if some of my locker room recollections are correct."

"I've told you," Ron said through his now clenched jaw, "He hasn't exactly been the most… _receptive_ of my coming out. It's obviously a bit of an adjustment for him."

"Well gay or not, you aren't going to get over him if you're spending every waking hour with him now are you?"

Ron stayed silent at this. The truth was he hadn't seen Harry in more than snatches the last few weeks… but that wasn't including the NON waking hours he spent with Harry, which he had no intentions of sharing with this particular audience. Or any audience.

Jonathan sighed in a way Ron had learned was full of exasperated affection. "Look Ronnie my dear, I get you and Harry have this weird next level connection thing, it makes sense, but you really might want to consider moving out or something. You can still be his best mate without having to work out how the hell to bring someone home with him a few doors down, yeah?"

Ron felt his stomach knot at the very idea. Move out? Why the bloody hell would he do that?! And it wasn't like he was going to be bringing anyone back to Grimmauld place for Merlin's sake. Though, maybe that was part of the problem…

"Can we change the subject please? I appreciate you're just trying to help, but why are we even talking about me trying to have sex with some bloke when I can't even work out how I'd even ask one to _dinner_? Just because I haven't… that I've never..."

"Been physical with a man?" Jonathan supplied.

"Right," Ron nodded, his ears burning, but still managing to give Jonathan a slight glare. "I just… can't it be ok that I'd just like to _date_ one first? Or, ya know, _know _him?"

Jonathan's expression softened slightly, and to Ron's surprise, he acquiesced, raising his weird cocktail (some pink thing he'd insisted on making. A cosmic-thingy…? Combo-whatsit…? Something with vodka anyway…) and giving Ron a salute.

"I didn't really take you for the more romantic type mate, but there's nothing wrong with that. There's no right or wrong way to do this."

"This?" Ron asked, still confused that Jonathan appeared to be willing to drop the interrogation.

"Coming out… or being gay for that matter. What kind of hypocrite would I be if I spent all this time telling you to be yourself and then gave you shit for not wanting to jump into the dating scene in a certain way?"

"Or at all," Andrew interjected. "There's no script or specified order you're supposed to do this in Ron. I spent 2 months secretly making out with a guy in Ravenclaw in 4th year, didn't come out until two years later, and didn't properly date anyone until nearly 2 years after that."

Ron swallowed a little thickly and nodded. "I… Thanks."

"Oh you're not off the hook completely," Jonathan announced, putting his now empty martini glass down and coming over to stand behind Ron, his mischievous grin back in place, "How about we talk about that hair of yours?"

Ron groaned as Jonathan ruffled his unruly hair. Jonathan had made it his mission ever since their second meeting to allow him to cut it. Apparently, he cut Andrew, Percy, and Olivers', all three of them grudgingly admitting he did a consistently good job of it. Ron had to agree, but that didn't mean he wanted his hair cut.

"Oh come on! You'll look so much more… manly!"

"You saying I don't look manly?"

"Oh you look plenty manly," Jonathan said with that slight leer that Ron still wasn't used to, despite knowing it was harmless (at least he was pretty sure it was harmless). "But you have a boy's haircut. You're 6 foot 3 inches of hunk, with a mop of hair that looks like it belongs on a 6 year old."

"Well it's in line with my maturity level then," Ron said dryly. "But can I maybe suggest a compromise?"

"Ooo! I'm listening…"

"Can you maybe pierce my ear?"

Percy looked up from his deck of cards in surprise. "You want him to what?"

Ron shrugged. He'd been thinking about it for awhile. He'd always thought Bill's was cool, and he'd realized over the last month that maybe he didn't always have to feel like things were second hand just because one of his brothers had done it first. Just because Bill had an earring didn't mean Ron couldn't have one too. His would be different. It would be his. It would be him. He'd also been pondering a tattoo but thought it best to leave that one alone for awhile. An earring was a good enough start.

"Yes! I love it! I've got some spares with me actually. Got any ice cubes Percy?"

Andrew heaved himself off the couch and laughed. "Sorry mate, but unless Ron's some sort of masochist, you won't be the one doing any piercing."

"Aww come on! You mean to tell me you have some weird magical way of piercing body parts without pain?"

"It will still sting, but it will be a lot safer than you stabbing a needle in Ron's ear."

Ron looked slightly horror struck. "Is that really how muggles do it?"

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "They have these little gun thingies, usually, but… not like a real gun!" He tried to explain as even Oliver looked alarmed now, "oh never mind just let Andrew do it the magic way. Here, you can pick one of these." He handed Ron an assortment of earrings. Ron selected a plain gold stud and handed it to Andrew who passed a quick disinfectant charm on it.

"You sure Ron?" Percy asked.

"Course I'm sure. Besides, I can always take it out."

"Not for the first 6 weeks if you want the hole to set. And you need to keep it clean… fancy medic man over here can probably give you a spell for that. Us mere mortals have to use mundane things like antibacterial solutions."

Andrew just smirked. "I can't imagine a man with as many brothers as Ron doesn't know how to cast his own disinfectant charm, which you can use in a pinch but sometimes there's no substitute for a good solution, even for us gods. Now hold very still Ron. It'll only take a second."

* * *

"So, I've been thinking…"

"Always a dangerous idea mate," Harry smirked, looking up at Ron from the parchment he was bent over at the sofa.

Ron rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He almost didn't want to go through with this when Harry was being, well, normal. But something had to give. He'd been thinking about it non stop for the last two days.

He'd tried to claim Jonathan was just over complicating things at first. He could get over Harry while still living with him. They'd lived together since they were 11 years old for Merlin's sake. They were best mates and there was no part of Ron that wanted to end that, even if the idea of pursuing something with a man other than Harry did feel a bit like sawing a limb off at present… which was maybe the point Jonathan had been trying to make.

Ron had dismissed the whole thing in less than 24 hours. But this morning Harry had gotten all bent out of shape when Ron had bumped into him in the kitchen again, and for fuck's sake if Harry couldn't handle that... well there was no way he was ever going to warm to the idea of a breakfast guest in the form of Ron's hypothetical lover.

There was also the very real concern that since coming out, Harry was his only real source of stress about his sexuality anymore. He was so relieved to be out in so many ways, but he wanted Harry's approval most of all, and he didn't have it. No matter how much he didn't want that to be the case, he couldn't deny it.

So maybe Jonathan wasn't crazy. Maybe Ron did need to do something about the situation.

"Hardy-har. I'm being serious here Harry. I think maybe… maybe I should move out?"

Damnit. He hadn't meant for it to come out as a question. He forced himself to meet Harry's eyes, surprised to find them mildly panicked and… hurt? Surely that was in his head.

"Wha… I mean… why?" Harry said quietly. A bad sign, Ron knew.

Ron heaved a sigh and spread his arms out in a giant shrug.

"Because I don't know what else to do here, Harry. You… you're obviously uncomfortable with the whole… the whole me being gay thing and I…"

"I've told you," Harry bit out angrily, "I'm not uncomfortable with it! It's totally fine."

Ron gathered his patience. The last thing he wanted to do was row with Harry over this again. It was draining, and truth be told, it hurt. A lot. He ran both hands through his hair, pulling the unruly mess he'd let it grow into back and away from his face with a frustrated huff.

"Look Ron, I know I…" Harry paused, he'd stood up from the sofa and was making his way towards Ron when he'd noticed the earing. "When did you do that?"

"Huh?"

"That!" Harry said pointing at Ron's ear.

Ron blushed and dropped his hands from his head, letting his hair fall back over his ears, hiding the jewelry. He shrugged.

Before Harry realized what he was doing, he had crossed the room to Ron and his hand was in his friend's hair, pulling it away so he could see Ron's ear, rubbing his thumb gently against Ron's temple as he did so.

Then he froze. This was weird. He wasn't supposed to just touch his best mate's hair like this. Or his face for that matter. And he was _so_ close to Ron's face. Too close... _Way _too close.

"Umm… Harry...?"

Harry forced himself to pull his hand away, tucking some of Ron's hair behind his ear as he did, leaving the earing on display. He looked up at Ron, his breath catching as he once again realized just how close they were. He licked his lips, swallowing thickly. His brain had gone fuzzy again and damnit, if that earring wasn't the sexiest thing he'd ever seen…

"I like it," he breathed.

Confusion spread across Ron's face. He didn't know what was happening here, but if he didn't put some distance between himself and Harry he was going to wind up 1000 times more embarrassed than he already was.

Instead, all he managed was a strangled, "Huh?"

"I like it," Harry repeated, a bit less breathlessly this time. Something in his brain was grinding to a halt the longer they stood like this. He realized too late it was the part of his brain that liked to remind him that there were some lines that, once crossed, you could never come back from.

"The… the earring?" Ron asked, hating how high his voice came out. He needed to move. He needed to step away. Why wasn't he moving? Why wasn't _Harry_, for that matter?

"Yes. No... I mean…" Harry pulled his eyes away from the earing and locked onto Ron's, his brain suddenly clicking back into motion. "I mean I like all of it."

Then he kissed him. Nothing fancy. Just… kissed him. He hadn't been planning to do it, but now that he was, he couldn't fathom why he'd waited so long, and he didn't want there to be any ambiguity about it.

Ron didn't move. _Couldn't_ move. What in buggering… what was happening here? Harry had just…

Harry opened his eyes to see Ron staring at him in shock, his expression otherwise unreadable. He wasn't sure how long they stood before Ron broke the silence.

"Was that for real? Did you mean that?"

Harry nodded, not breaking eye contact. If he was going to admit it, he may as well go all in.

And then Ron was kissing him, and it was _definitely _fancy. Ron's hands were in his hair as his own found Ron's waist and, _god in heaven_, if this wasn't the _best_ thing he'd ever felt. Ron's hands couldn't seem to stay still and he raked them through Harry's hair as he explored every inch of his mouth.

And Harry let him, too nervous to do much else, truth be told.

Too soon, Ron broke the kiss, both of them trembling with nerves. Harry suddenly found he couldn't look at Ron and instead pressed his forehead into Ron's collarbone, thinking for the first time that perhaps their height differences weren't so bad.

"Is this…" Ron paused, finding he was struggling to breathe, "Harry, is this ok?"

Harry felt his heart swell until he thought it may burst. Merlin help him…

When he didn't answer right away, he felt Ron's shoulders tense up.

"I... I'm sorry. I can…"

Alarmed, both at the apology and Ron's sudden attempts to move away, Harry gripped Ron's hips tightly and in an act of bravery that had him wondering how the sword of Gryffindor hadn't suddenly appeared, pulled Ron towards him so that they were pressed flush up against one another, biting his lip to keep from groaning as he connected with Ron's upper thigh, and grateful that his forehead was still firmly pressed into Ron's collarbone, though he couldn't imagine how Ron didn't feel the heat of his blush through the t-shirt.

Unprepared, Ron let out what could only be described as a mangled whimper as Harry made his enthusiasm for the situation abundantly clear against his thigh. Neither one of them moved for a moment.

"So…" Ron finally said, needing to hear Harry say it. "That was um… this _is_ ok then?"

Harry took a deep breath, taking in the scent of Ron as he did and chuckling slightly.

"It's fucking _brilliant_ Ron."

The last of the tension eased from Ron's shoulders.

"Thank fuck for that."

And he pulled Harry's face up to his and was kissing him again, Harry a far more active participant this time, the two of them trading control back and forth between them.

Ron's hands were everywhere- Harry's hair, his shoulders, his waist. Harry groaned appreciatively as they tentatively found his arse. His own hands were still frozen at Ron's hips, unable to do much more than clench and unclench around the taller man's hip bones, afraid to break contact.

Ron shifted slightly and in his attempt not to break their kiss, somehow managed to stumble over before tripping completely and landed rather ungracefully onto the couch.

He blinked up at Harry, blushing furiously, but without missing a beat Harry swung his leg over both of Ron's, straddling his lap, both of them gasping as he experimentally rolled his hips.

"Fucking hell Harry..."

"Alright?"

"_Merlin Yes..._"

It was over embarrassingly quickly, both of them still fully clothed, but they could not possibly have cared less.

Harry had once again hidden his face, this time pressed into Ron's neck, while Ron's hands remained frozen on Harry's hips, both of them breathing heavily.

"Ron," Harry said at last, his pulse finally down to a more normal range. "I umm… I might… I might be gay too?"

Ron burst into laughter, he couldn't help it. Harry finally lifted his head to look at Ron, who sobered instantly at the look on his best friend's face. Harry was smiling, but his eyes were shining a bit too brightly.

"Hey," Ron said gently, the tone of his voice enough to cause Harry to press his forehead back to Ron's shoulder again. "It's not so bad, is it?"

Harry shook his head against Ron's neck. "Just… a bit much?" he offered, hoping Ron understood. Merlin, he felt like such a tit.

Ron barked out a laugh again. "Tell me about it mate. D'you think umm… can we maybe continue this conversation upstairs?"

Harry pulled back, his expression a mixture of alarmed amusement as Ron realized what he'd said.

"Oh! No! I'm such an arse. No, I meant… I mean, not that I mind, but my legs are kind of falling asleep like this and… I sort of need to clean up?"

Harry snorted and climbed off of Ron, wishing he could stop blushing like a bloody… well like a bloody Weasley.

"Sorry. Maybe we um… yeah, let's get cleaned up first."

Ten minutes later found both wizards, staring awkwardly at the bed they shared, now suddenly a whole new universe of strange. Ron couldn't stop fidgeting and Harry just stood frozen at his nightstand.

"This is stupid," Harry huffed. "I don't know how to do any of this! It's just you. It shouldn't be so…"

"Weird?" Ron offered, knowing Harry didn't mean any offense. He felt the same way.

Harry nodded helplessly and they stood where they were for another minute before Ron let out a slow breath through his lips.

"Ok so, neither one of us knows what the hell we're doing, yeah? Maybe we just… do what we normally do and then go from there?"

Harry nodded, giving Ron a small smile in gratitude as the pair of them climbed into the giant bed, propping themselves up on a few pillows, and turning to face each other for a chat, as they often did.

Ron didn't like it. The distance. It seemed absurd to be this far away from the man that had been grinding in his lap less than an hour before.

Harry seemed to agree, as after a moment he rolled his eyes and shuffled over, closing the distance considerably. They weren't touching, but they could do, if they wanted to.

Ron wanted to. He reached out before he could stop himself and put his hand on Harry's arm, resting it there, wanting to keep some sort of contact.

"Maybe," Harry huffed, annoyed with how ridiculous he felt, "we just need to agree to speak up if either of us is uncomfortable with… with any of... anything… and for fuck's sake, why can't I even speak properly?!" he added, laughing at the absurdity of the whole thing.

Ron grinned in response and stretched his long arm to wrap around Harry's waist and pull him the rest of the way across the mattress. It took a few moments of shifting and twisting, but eventually they settled with both of them on their backs, Ron pressed tightly against Harry's right side, propped up a little on the pillows with his left arm wrapped across Harry's shoulders, drawing lazy circles along Harry's bicep. It couldn't be called cuddling exactly, but it was still close enough to feel intimate… in a slightly less feminine way? Harry tried not to think too much about it as he settled in, reaching out to pull Ron's right hand over to him. He didn't hold it exactly, just ran his fingers absently over Ron's where they rested between their nearly conjoined ribs.

"So," Ron said at last, "I agree with your earlier statement, about speaking up if either of us is uncomfortable, I reckon that's a good place to start." he paused, not entirely sure where he wanted to go next, and so settled on, "I have a lot of questions Harry..."

Harry laughed, but more out of irony than humor. "That makes two of us. I'm not really sure what to say to be honest."

Ron waited. Again, he understood.

"Can we clear up, just to you know, make sure I'm not crazy, but… you fancy me, yeah?"

Ron snapped his neck to look at Harry, shocked. The look on Harry's face made it clear it was a serious question but how the… if anyone should be asking that question, it should be him!

"Fucking hell Harry, really?"

When Harry didn't respond, Ron squeezed his shoulders a bit tighter.

"I would have thought this was obvious when I explained about the locket, but just so there isn't any lingering doubt or confusion, I've fancied you for fuck knows how long, and if you're still not convinced, I submit my inability to control myself for more than 2 minutes with you writhing around in my lap as exhibit B."

Harry couldn't help his smug grin.

"Oi! you didn't do much better!" Ron accused.

Harry snorted and shrugged, his grin a little less smug but still looking rather pleased with himself.

"You um," Ron started, trying to get it out as though it wasn't the most important question of his life to date. "You fancy me as well then?"

Harry snorted again. "Yeah Ron, I'm going to admit I'm gay for someone I'm not even particularly interested in. Of course I fancy you. I… yeah. Definitely."

"Good."

"Yeah. Good."

They lay in contented silence for awhile. Ron continued to draw patterns on Harry's arm as Harry traced his fingers over Ron's knuckles.

"Did you know you have 22 freckles on your nose?" Harry said suddenly.

Ron quirked an eyebrow and looked down at his… friend? Boyfriend? Mate he'd just rutted to completion against? Merlin…

"It's um… it's when I realized maybe I wasn't so… so normal. I mean, not that you aren't normal! I mean… fuck."

Ron shifted so he could be more eye level with Harry. "Just say what you need to say mate. Trust me, I get it."

Harry breathed in through his nose, a bit more harshly than he meant to, and puffed the breath out through his mouth.

"Right. I just… I don't know Ron. I had never really thought about it. I want to say yeah, I've always known I was mad about you like, like this, but, the thought had honestly never occurred to me until about two months ago."

Ron's eyebrows rose at this, but he said nothing, allowing Harry to get out whatever he needed to get out.

"I guess I just… I mean… I'm pretty messed up when it comes to emotional… stuff." he finished lamely.

"I know," Ron said quietly. Because he did know. He understood that the Dursleys had damaged Harry in some pretty fundamental ways, even if he and Hermione never articulated it that way.

"I don't think I'd ever realized that… well that what I was thinking or feeling wasn't normal for a friendship… does that even make sense? In hindsight, there's some pretty obvious shit, I admit, but, I'm pretty good at suppressing things, if I'm honest, so... yeah, I didn't have a clue really until a few months ago when you… uh… you sort of ended up half on top of me in bed."

Ron struggled to suppress a smirk at this, clearly amused. "Oh?"

Harry rolled his eyes and elbowed Ron none too gently in the ribs. "Yeah. You were dreaming or something, I don't know, and you ended up kind of half sprawled across me and I thought… shit."

Ron laughed, a proper, loud, laugh and pulled Harry's shoulders closer. "So my stellar body came into contact with yours and you just couldn't help yourself yeah? So, then what?"

Harry jabbed Ron in the ribs again, earning another chuckle from the red head before continuing.

"Right. So I sort of… Do you remember that night a while back when I was sick?" he paused as Ron scrunched his nose up before nodding that he remembered. "So. That was when I realized…" he trailed off, hoping Ron didn't need him to explain further.

Ron's brow furrowed, "Wait… so that's when you realized that you liked me or…"

"Blokes. You in particular I suppose. But yeah, also blokes in general."

Ron blinked, not sure what to say to that.

"So… you just realized you preferred men… 5 seconds ago, basically…"

"Kinda?" Harry admitted.

"And you're sure you… ya know…"

Harry snorted at this, rolling over slightly to face Ron before leaning over and kissing him… _thoroughly_.

"Yeah," Harry said when they at last broke apart. "I… god yes. Very sure."

Ron stayed silent and simply let his head drop back against his pillow, a bit dazed.

"So… when did you realize that… you know…"

"That I liked blokes or that I liked you?" Ron clarified.

"Both."

"Mmm. Bit complicated. But probably always for both. I spent a lot of time trying to convince myself and everyone else that I wasn't different. I think the reality of it set in during fourth year... I noticed Dean was pretty fit in second year though…"

Harry chuckled slightly. It was a long standing joke amongst their dorm mates that Dean was the most beautiful.

"I think… I always knew, even before I really understood what it meant to be gay. With you specifically, I genuinely panicked after you pulled me out of the lake," he admitted, "It was sort of this… I don't know really, epiphany I could no longer deny? And don't even get me started on the bloody ball. I had a giant crush on Viktor Krum, which hopefully explains that mess. And then I'd spent the first half of the year trying to distance myself from you to try and avoid what I was feeling and the rest of the year terrified I'd lose you to that stupid tournament, and at the same time terrified somebody would figure out what I was really thinking about you... bit of a mess really."

"No kidding," Harry agreed. "The whole lake saga is one of those 'By the way Potter, you're a giant homo' things that I somehow missed at the time."

Ron snorted and they settled into a comfortable silence, content to just be near each other for awhile.

"So… Ginny?" Ron broke the silence at last.

Harry sighed. It was a fair question, but he wasn't really sure how to answer it.

"I never... I wasn't messing her about, if that's what you mean."

Ron shook his head. "No. I didn't think that. I… Ok look, I know we cleared up the whole we fancy each other thing, and I don't want to act all… insecure about it, but Harry… 2 months? You really didn't have any idea you might like blokes before that? Are you sure it's actually me you like or… fuck. Sorry. I don't…"

"I get it." Harry interrupted, saving Ron from himself. "I really do. It's hard to explain and I've been… honestly Ron I've been a mess. Still am really, which I feel is only fair to tell you. The best way I can think to explain it is that I'm sort of conditioned to force myself to fit into whatever the box of normalcy is. My aunt and uncle, they didn't… I mean they _really_ screwed me up Ron. You saw me after I figured it out. I was literally puking my guts out over it, and not because I personally think there's anything wrong with liking men… well, hopefully that part is obvious. I just… liking girls is what you're supposed to do, so I did what your _supposed _to do. And I _do_ like Ginny. I just didn't realize that there were options that would… that would make me feel like I was on fire… in a good way. I've been in agony since Christmas, if you must know. It's why I've been such a giant git lately; which I'm sorry about, by the way. I..." Harry paused here and started to laugh in spite of himself, "Mate, I've been staring at your arse every time you leave the room for over a month now and I can't even say the thoughts that would go through my head out loud without dying of embarrassment. I'm willing to admit that I'm confused as fuck about a lot of this, but trust me when I tell you: Ginny _never_ incited this kind of reaction in me. I promise."

Ron chuckled, not entirely sure he believed that Harry had been openly ogling him for the last several weeks, as surely he would have noticed?! He said nothing for a moment, deciding whether or not he really wanted to ask the next question on the tip of his tongue.

"So you and Ginny never… umm…"

Harry shifted so he was on his side and propped himself up so he could look at Ron properly.

"What?"

"You and my sister… you didn't do anything… too… physical?"

Harry blinked. "Ron… are you asking me if I'm a virgin?" Ron was scarlett now, and Harry barely suppressed a laugh. "Don't you think I would have told you if I wasn't, even if it _had_ been with your sister?"

Ron shrugged awkwardly and Harry tried very hard to keep his expression neutral. Part of him wanted to punch Ron for letting his insecurities get the better of him now, of all moments, but the other part of him admitted that he'd probably feel the same as Ron if the situation were reversed. Just deciding you were gay on a Tuesday wasn't exactly… well who knew what normal was really, but he could understand Ron's uncertainty.

"I can tell you everything we ever did if you want me to," he said finally, settling himself back down against Ron's side, "but I don't think you really want to know. We were physical Ron, sure, but nothing too... I mean, Ginny's never, _ever_, made me feel anything even close to the way you did downstairs just now. Not ever. I've..." he felt himself going just as scarlett as Ron, "I've never gotten off with anyone else before." he rushed out, hoping it was answer enough about his activities with Ginny without having to get into too much detail.

Ron gave Harry a tentative smile, not sure what else to say.

"And you?" Harry asked.

"And me, what?"

"Have you ever... ?"

Ron burst into laughter, nearly dislodging Harry from where he was glued next to Ron. He started to shift away, only for Ron to tighten his hold across his shoulders and pull him back.

"Is that a no?" Harry asked cheekily.

"Correct, that's a no. You've witnessed the extent of every one of my sexual exploits first hand, as did the rest of the common room… excluding this most recent one of course. Er, the ones involving a partner at least."

Harry flushed at this, but not from embarrassment this time he realized. He forced himself back to the present. He'd have plenty of time to ponder what solo sexual exploits Ron got up to in his spare time later- perhaps join him. His head swam at the thought that this whole scenario could involve a 'later.' As in, this wasn't just some weird, random, night, and he suddenly felt the need to make a couple more things clear.

"While we're getting it all out there then," he said, his tone becoming more serious as he forced himself to meet Ron's eyes when he said this, "Ginny was never… she's never been _you_. I don't… I'm not sure how to explain what I mean. It's not just… not just the physical part."

Ron was still for a moment before he twisted to his side so that the two of them were facing each other, chests touching. Ron moved his legs to tangle them with Harry's, too determined to get closer to him to feel embarrassed by the act.

War hero or not, there was a part of Ron that would always be the littlest brother, desperately hoping to be wanted.

Harry's chest flared with emotion he wasn't sure he recognized as Ron did his level best to burrow into him, and he knew Ron felt it too. This _wasn't _some random, hormone fueled night. If he didn't feel so overwhelmed he might laugh at just how _obvious_ the whole thing was.

He reached over and reciprocated Ron's moves by wrapping an arm firmly around Ron's waist, pulling closer and pressing their foreheads together. So much for not cuddling.

"Ok?" he asked.

Ron nodded. "Just…" he laughed, "...a bit much?"

Harry laughed too, pressing his lips to Ron's forehead as he did, surprising himself slightly.

"What are… I mean… what do we do about this?" Ron asked, needing to verbalize for certain what was going on between them.

Harry shrugged as best he could with Ron's arms wrapped around him. "What do you want to do?"

"This," Ron answered promptly, tightening his grip. "Whatever this is… with you… I want it."

"Me too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

* * *

**At last! Our oblivious heroes fess up. Your thoughts and feedback are very much appreciated as we head into Part 2 of this story, in which Harry and Ron sort out this whole 'how to be a couple' business. **


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 - In which it wasn't a dream**

* * *

Harry woke slowly, vaguely aware that he actually felt rested, a rarity these days. He groggily thought of the six statements he had waiting for him today and decided it would be worth a trip to the ministry to do them orally instead. He wondered if Ron had to be in early today or…

...Ron. RON!

Harry bolted up, swiveling around to find his… well to find Ron. He wasn't entirely sure what to call him apart from that. Had he dreamt it? His _body_ certainly didn't seem to think so as the scene from the sofa came rushing back to him, but that didn't mean anything. It wasn't like his cock differentiated dreams from reality.

He pulled the duvet back slightly to look at Ron, curled up and still sleeping soundly next to him. _Right_ next to him. They _never_ slept this close.

It was real, Harry realized. _All of it_.

Ron stirred and blinked blearily up at Harry before sliding his eyes shut again.

"C'mere," he mumbled sleepily. "...Still have an hour… sleep."

Harry continued to stare at Ron, who in his sleep haze seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Harry was having an internal crisis and was reaching over blindly to pull Harry back down to his pillow. A pillow Ron was half using himself… because they had fallen asleep tangled up in each other.

It had really happened then. He wasn't making it up. It hadn't been an outrageously detailed dream.

Ron wanted him. _Wanted_ him.

They'd snogged, rather enthusiastically, and they'd talked. Bloody hell had they talked- like they hadn't in ages.

And they wanted to be together. As in… _together._

He felt his cheeks flush. He hardly ever blushed but had done nothing else since last night.

When Harry didn't move in response to Ron's insistent tug on his wrist, Ron opened his eyes again and stifled a yawn.

"H'ry?"

Harry couldn't help himself, the realization that he'd kissed Ron and the world hadn't come crashing down washing over him as he smiled, realizing too late it was probably a ridiculously soppy smile, and laid back down, shuffling so that he was facing Ron.

"I'm fine Ron. Go back to sleep."

Ron cracked an eyelid and matched Harry's soppy grin with one of his own. He shifted forward and kissed Harry lightly on the lips.

"Just checking," he mumbled sleepily.

Harry reached over and covered one of Ron's hands with his own and squeezed. They fell back asleep easily.

The next time Harry woke, Ron was gone, a quickly scrawled note on his nightstand letting Harry know he'd had to hustle out of the house to make it to work.

Harry had never been more jealous that Ron had a job to go to. He would have given anything to have some sort of purpose to distract himself with for the long stretch of day ahead. He went to the ministry and gave his statements regarding his interactions with Goyle and McNair, picked up some groceries, and even did a load of laundry (much to Kreacher's despair) but he couldn't really recall the details of any of it. His brain was too full of red hair and freckles. He couldn't seem to string together a coherent thought all day.

When at last the soft chime indicating the wards were allowing someone inside buzzed through Grimmauld Place, Harry bolted to the foyer, skidding across the rug and to a halt just as Ron walked in and began toeing off his boots. He looked up as Harry caught his balance, an amused smile on his face.

"Hey."

"Hey," Harry replied, suddenly feeling _completely_ ridiculous.

And giddy. And stupid. And… for the love of Merlin, he somehow didn't seem to know what to do with his hands anymore and settled on shoving them into his pockets.

"Um," Ron started, then seemed to realize that he didn't really know what to say either. "Hi."

"Hi."

"Oh for fuck's sake…"

They burst out laughing, both relieved that the other seemed to be equally out of sorts. Harry still couldn't shake the odd jittery feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Come on," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "I'm starving."

"Well at least that's familiar."

"Do we have anything decent?" Ron asked. They'd convinced Kreacher that they needed to cook for themselves at least a couple times a week. It had been a hard battle, but they figured it was better than being incapable of taking care of themselves without a house elf.

"I picked up some stuff for Shepherd's pie," Harry answered, following Ron into the kitchen. "Or at least I think I did? I uhh… I don't know what I did all day to be honest."

Harry realized suddenly that he'd pretty much just spent his entire day just waiting for Ron to get home. Good Lord… he was a wreck. He'd thought figuring out he was gay had turned him into a right mess, but this was taking it to new heights.

Ron was smirking at him from the cabinet where, for the most part, Harry had managed the ingredients they needed.

"Shut up," Harry mumbled, but he couldn't hide his smile. To hell with trying to sort himself out. It was only Ron after all.

They set to work preparing dinner as they usually did, albeit with less chatter. Instead, they seemed to keep finding excuses to brush up against each other, elbows bumping as they shared a cutting board rather than dirty a second, hips jutting playfully into each other as they jostled for space, until finally, Harry'd had enough.

"Sod this," he announced with a huff before pulling Ron around to face him and kissing him soundly.

Ron, clearly not opposed, dropped his knife on the counter and pulled Harry closer, surprised, but not at all upset, by Harry's fervor. He started backing Harry up against the dining table when…

"Ron? Are you there?"

They jumped apart, Harry's wand drawn out of habit as Ron spun towards the hearth. Percy's head floated in a mass of green flames, swiveling around and trying to see around the large dining table. Ron knew you couldn't see much from the fireplace, but his heart was still pounding in his ears as he tried to read Harry's expression. Harry was clearly too distracted with pulling himself out of defensive mode, pocketing his wand a beat later than necessary, to notice anything else.

"Shit," Ron muttered, "is it Thursday? I'm here Percy! Just a sec."

With an apologetic glance at Harry, who seemed to have caught up with the situation and was blushing bright pink, Ron made his way around the table to lean over the hearth to speak with Percy.

"Sorry Perce. I completely forgot. Can I take a rain check?"

"And leave me to entertain Jonathan? Really Ron?" Percy sighed.

"I know, I know. I've just got… things going on." He cringed mentally as he said it, knowing that was the most unsatisfactory response ever as Percy eyed him suspiciously through the flames.

"Everything Ok?"

"Yeah, brilliant, honest. I just have some things to catch up on… been really busy at the shop, you know?"

Percy did not look convinced, but seemed to decide it wasn't worth an argument as he sighed again.

"Fine. But you owe me."

Muttering to himself as he brushed the soot off of his knees, Ron came back around the table to find Harry finishing the chopping they'd started.

"Sorry mate. I forgot I was supposed to grab drinks with Percy tonight."

Harry just shrugged, dumping the mince into a pan and lightning the stove with a flick of his wand.

"It's alright. Drinks with Percy… and Jonathan?"

Ron quirked an eyebrow and watched as Harry fussed with the beef, resolutely not looking up at Ron.

"Yeah. Oliver and Andrew's friend. I told you about him."

"Their gay friend?"

Ron shifted slightly, not sure how to read the tone in Harry's voice as he finally looked over at Ron for confirmation. Was Harry… jealous? Godrick… would wonders ever cease…

"Yeah… that a problem?"

Harry shook his head quickly and blushed… again. Ron tried to bite back a smirk as it occurred to him that he would very much like to get used to making Harry blush. He didn't think he'd ever seen him flush so often and wanted to keep it happening, in several ways. At the very least, he wanted to figure out how to get Harry to start kissing him again.

"I think I owe him a thank you actually," he said finally. "He's the one who convinced me to pierce my ear."

Harry looked up at him again, his brow furrowed slightly as Ron ran a hand through his hair, revealing the earing. Harry kept his expression neutral, having perfected the art of not letting Ron see the effect he had on him over the last 6 weeks.

"Ok?"

Ron shifted so they were standing closer together, arms crossed casually over his chest as he leaned into the counter. Weeks ago, hell- mere _days_ ago, he never would have noticed Harry's eyes flick up and down, or the hard swallow that followed. It was taking everything he had not to laugh.

How had he been missing this?! He'd been so convinced Harry was straight, so focused on trying not to weird him out, that he'd been completely oblivious to any indication Harry may have given that actually, being attracted to men, particularly to Ron, wasn't a half bad idea.

Ron had never been able to pull off anything resembling smooth, or even mildly flirtatious, in his life. Yet he was fairly positive he was driving Harry mad right now, and he wasn't sorry about it in the least. He watched Harry carefully, wanting to learn every cue, every reaction. He was determined to ignore the part of his brain that was still struggling to believe any of this was real. If this was some strange, elaborate, enchantment or just one of his more bizarre dreams, he was going to live it up while he could.

"You see," Ron continued casually, "I think the earing may have turned my best friend gay."

Harry's mouth fell open in surprise as Ron lost his will and snorted. Harry punched him in the arm, hard enough to make Ron wince as he laughed.

"Prat," Harry muttered, smiling as he turned back to the stove.

"You should come meet them," Ron said, turning his attention back to the potatoes, figuring he had all night to get Harry to kiss him again.

"Meet them? You mean like… Uh…"

Ron looked up at Harry, his smile faltering as he took in the worried expression. Realization dawned on him and he suddenly felt his stomach drop.

Logically, Ron knew this made sense. He had always known he was gay and it had taken him nearly 17 years to admit it to himself, nevermind anyone else. Harry was still figuring all of this out. Snogging Ron privately was one thing. Being _out_ was another thing entirely.

Logical or not, it stung.

"We don't have to tell anyone Harry," he found himself saying, even as his gut twisted at the thought. Hadn't he promised himself when he came out that there would be no more pretending?

Harry shook his head. "It's not that. Well, it is I guess, just… I don't know… I'm not ashamed or anything."

Ron didn't really know what to say to that, so concentrated instead on mashing the potatoes.

"Ron, really. I don't know how to explain any of… any of what's happening."

"What _is_ happening?" Ron asked, his tone sharper than he meant it to be. Shit. He was bolicking this up royally. "Sorry. That's not what I meant."

They stood silently for a few minutes, wordlessly passing ingredients back and forth as they assembled the pie and slid it into the oven.

"So…" Harry tried. "We should maybe uh… maybe talk about this?"

Ron rather thought they should just go back to snogging, but didn't say so. Sighing, he sat down at the table and gestured for Harry to join him. Harry hesitated. The conversation they were about to have was important, but probably going to be sufficiently awkward. He didn't want Ron to be hurt, but he also knew he wasn't ready to be so public about their... relationship? They were a couple, right? How did this even work? It had seemed fairly straight forward last night, wrapped up in the safety of their bed.

Harry mentally shook himself and gathered his courage.

"Wha…?" Ron blinked in surprise, as rather than take the vacant chair next to his, Harry straddled Ron's legs and sat down in his lap, facing him, his back braced against the dining table. Ron automatically shifted slightly so Harry's weight was more balanced and he willed himself not to become too distracted. Harry had kept himself at a fairly innocent distance, perched more or less on Ron's knees, but that didn't really help much as Ron's brain instantly went back to the previous evening on the sofa. He blinked up at Harry again, completely unsure how to react.

"Umm, how the bloody hell am I supposed to talk to you like _this_?" He finally managed, his hands hanging awkwardly at his sides while he tried to figure out what he was supposed to be doing with a lap full of Harry Potter that didn't involve snogging him into next week. Or quite possibly running into the next room, which would have been his immediate response less than 24 hours ago.

Harry chuckled lightly and crossed his arms over his chest with a small smirk, proud of himself for disarming Ron a bit. If he was honest, it was driving him slightly mental that Ron seemed so… _sure _and _calm_ about everything that had happened between them.

"Look Ron, I don't want you to think that just because I'm not ready for… for everyone to know about... us? I mean… we're an 'us' right?" he interrupted himself, his confidence faltering.

"We are," Ron confirmed, understanding the need for affirmation better than most. "We can figure out the particulars as we go but… yes. We're an 'us' if that's what you still want?"

"Yes. I mean… it is."

Ron nodded, indicating for Harry to continue.

"So, just because I may not be ready for the entire Wizarding world to know that we're… 'us,' it doesn't mean I don't want to BE an 'us' and I just figured… sitting like this will remind you? I don't want you to be hurt Ron. It's not about you. Part of me wants to shout from the rooftops about it. I just…"

Ron brought his hands up to Harry's sides, his thumbs pressing patterns into Harry's hip bones through his jeans. Harry was smart. Sitting like this _did_ help.

"I understand Harry. It took me 18 bloody years, so I get it. It's just that, I was ready to be done hiding. That's all."

Harry winced. "I don't want you to have to hide. That's… I mean, that doesn't seem fair."

"Well neither does making you do anything you're not ready to do yet," Ron replied, looking up at Harry to find him frowning slightly.

"Maybe," Harry said after a moment, "we just keep it private but not a secret? Like we tell a few people... your family and… oh my god… SHIT!"

"_Hermione!_" Ron's eyes widened as he finished Harry's thought. He leaned forward, pressed his forehead against Harry's chest, and groaned. 'Shit' didn't even begin to cover it. "Damnit Harry… I didn't even... "

"I know. I didn't either until just now. But… she'll be ok with it."

"How do you know?! She and I've only just barely gotten back to normal! Hell, maybe not even that! And now I have to tell her 'hey, by the way, I'm snogging my OTHER best friend now? P.S., turns out we both fancy blokes!' Could've been having pajama parties for years apparently..."

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron's dramatics. Pajama parties? Honestly. He wanted to snog boys, not learn how to do a plait. "I know she'll be ok with it Ron. I... Ok, don't get mad…"

Ron looked up again, perplexed this time. Harry inched forward in Ron's lap, earning a scowl from the red head but also a tighter grip on his hips.

"Cheap move Potter," Ron grumbled, shifting under Harry's weight. "What am I going to be mad about?"

"Hermione knows I'm gay… and that I'm pretty gone for you. I didn't actually tell her that part, but…"

"She's Hermione," Ron finished for him. "When did you tell her?"

Harry winced. "The day you came out to me...?"

Ron sat very still for a moment before tightening his grip on Harry's hips once again. "Do you mean to tell me we could have been sitting like this for weeks now?"

Harry shrugged helplessly. "Maybe? I honestly don't know Ron. I was so mixed up at the time. It's why I responded like a bloody idiot when you told me. I went to Hermione because… well..."

"She's Hermione," Ron repeated.

Harry nodded and shrugged again before he very quietly added, "I'm here now."

"You are," Ron agreed, "_We_ are. Is it… I mean, is it still ok? Sorry I keep asking that. I just…"

"I know. Let's just say it Ron, it's bloody _weird_. But also good. _Really_ good."

Ron nodded, doing his best to take Harry at his word.

"Too weird to tell my family?" he asked.

"No. We should tell them."

"That's not exactly 'just a few people' you realize? It's…"

"I'm aware Ron."

"I just don't want you to feel pressure or any...hrmph…"

Ron stopped his arguing as Harry pressed his lips to his, effectively shutting him up.

"Again with the cheap moves…"

"Are you complaining?"

"Shut it."

Harry just grinned. "So, Hermione first? Then… Merlin how do we tell your family?"

Ron laughed. "Well, we can go the route I did and tell them all individually, or you can just snog me at Sunday dinner. Your choice."

Harry tilted his head in thought, earning a raised eyebrow from Ron.

"That's not a bad idea actually."

"...mate…I was _joking_..."

"No really! It doesn't drag it out, it makes the point… I get to snog you. Win-win-win, right? Also… George may not be all that shocked by the info, just um… just FYI."

Ron gave Harry a quizzical look as he considered this, still not sure whether Harry was entirely serious about up and snogging him in front of his entire family, but also utterly distracted by the comment about George.

"Ok, first, whatever George knows, and however he came to know it, needs to be explained in _great_ detail. Second, you have to tell Ginny ahead of time since she won't be at lunch," he ignored Harry's wince at this and plowed ahead. "Third, if you've got the balls to snog me in front of George and the rest of my gigantic, loud mouthed family, then go for it."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Absolutely Potter. I think you may need to practice though…"

They very nearly burnt the shepherd's pie.

* * *

"Ron, if you don't cool it, I'm going to hex you," Harry said with no real conviction after Ron's third attempt to subtly run his hands across Harry's arse as the estate agent continued enthusiastically describing some feature or another of the shop front they were currently investigating in Hogsmeade for George.

They agreed to tell Hermione about them in person at the Hogsmeade weekend. The preceding week and half had been a blur for both men, the days longer than they ought to have been, with Ron rushing through closing duties at the shop every night, and Harry forcing himself to visit the Ministry in person nearly every day to keep himself from pacing the foyer like a prat. Not too much of their usual routine really changed in truth. The only noticeable difference was their new competition to see which one of them could make the other cave first and start snogging.

There was a lot of snogging. If not for their mutual competitiveness, there may not have been, as they were both fairly hopeless when it came to any sort of powers of seduction, and they were equally, hilariously, inexperienced, not to mention navigating the idea of suddenly being able to snog your best mate was a bit of a maze.

Harry still felt completely stupid most days, unable to shake the lovesick feeling he got whenever Ron came home, or curled up closer to him in their giant bed, or… anytime really. It had taken him awhile to realize that was the best word for it- lovesick- but he'd never admit it out loud.

He was actually starting to get self conscious about it. Since coming out, Ron had settled into a new confidence that was frankly hot as hell, as far as Harry was concerned, but it also flipped their usual dynamic. It was usually Ron traversing the minefield of self doubt and having to constantly bolster his confidence, not Harry.

The reality was that Harry was still sorting out a lot of things in his head, getting comfortable with a part of himself he hadn't really known existed, but Ron was more patient than Harry had ever known him to be, slowly teasing pieces of information out of Harry when it was obvious he felt out of sorts, and offering nothing but understanding. It was… sweet? Which sometimes only added fuel to Harry's occasional freak outs.

But in fairness, Ron was new at this too. They were both equally unsure of what to say or do at times.

Despite their occasional confusion, they both went out of their way to clarify, over and over, that even though they were a little lost at times, they _wanted_ this. Harry had to admit that when he summed it all up, it had been the best 10 days of his life.

Ron had convinced George to give him the Saturday of the Hogsmeade Weekend off in exchange for checking out a potential shop property while he was there. Ron was currently far too busy trying to get Harry to kiss him (again) to really inspect the property though.

Harry rolled his eyes as Ron slung an arm across Harry's shoulders and leaned into him. "I was serious you know. I know some very good hexes. You're supposed to be investigating this fine piece of real estate."

"Oh I'm investigating it all right," Ron said, smirking as he raked his eyes up and down Harry suggestively.

Harry snorted. "Really?"

"Can't help it mate," Ron replied with a wide grin. "I've had over a week with you all to myself. I should have just lied about coming today. We could have spent all day at the house."

Harry laughed and rolled his eyes again. "Some of us don't have jobs to get us out of the house. If you don't mind, I'd like to actually see the sky occasionally."

"Well gentlemen, what do you think?"

Ron caught Harry's eye and they both had to look away quickly to keep from bursting into laughter. Neither of them had the faintest idea what the agent had said.

"Uh, the shop itself is ok, but it's too far off the high street," Ron managed.

An hour later and they were crammed into a booth at the Three Broomsticks, Harry anxiously bouncing one leg until Ron finally slipped his hand under the table to rest if firmly on Harry's knee, reassuring him.

"It's just Hermione," he reminded him, "she'll probably know before you even tell her."

Harry nodded, sipping his butterbeer to keep himself occupied. It wasn't Hermione he was worried about, it was the conversation he would be having afterwards when he met up with Ginny.

Ron gave Harry's knee a final squeeze before tilting his head towards the door where a familiar head of bushy hair had entered. Hermione bounded over to them, exchanging hugs and ensuring butterbeers were ordered. She settled in and grinned at her two best friends, chattering non stop about her latest revision schedules and classwork before catching herself and taking a deep breath to pause.

"Sorry… I just miss you both so much!"

"We miss you too Hermione, don't apologize. We hardly know what to do with ourselves without you creating timetables for us," Harry grinned at his friend and she shook her head at him in exasperation.

"I don't know," Ron added, "I think we've managed to keep ourselves occupied."

Harry elbowed Ron in the ribs and began to blush. Hermione's head tilted for a moment and Harry knew this was all it was going to take…

A smile crept across her lips as she looked back and forth from Ron, smiling sheepishly, to Harry, blushing bright pink.

"Have you now," She asked, her smile now a full blown cheshire grin. "Harry, are you _blushing_?"

Ron laughed, _finally,_ someone had noticed the blushing! Harry covered his face with his hands, mumbling to himself.

"Does that rather a lot these days," Ron confirmed, nudging Harry gently with his shoulder, forcing him to look up.

"Must you call it out though? Some of us aren't as accustomed to turning into a tomato every five minutes."

Ron just continued to beam at his two best friends, ignoring Harry's jibe. Hermione shook her head and kicked them both playfully under the table as they confirmed everything without words.

"How long then?"

"Last Wednesday," Ron said promptly.

"I told you Harry," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah. You _have _been wrong before you know."

"Has she? When? I don't recall hell having frozen over any time in recent memory…"

Several rounds of butterbeer later, Harry was sufficiently relaxed. He should have known there was nothing to worry about with Hermione. He knew there was a part of this that was painful for her, but he was grateful that she could still be happy for them. It wasn't until a familiar shock of red hair caught his eye near the entryway that Harry remembered why he'd been nervous about the day.

Ginny's laugh reached their table and Ron looked up and spotted her as well. He gave Harry a small nudge. With an apologetic glance to Hermione, Harry made his was out of the booth and towards Ginny, knowing he needed to go in head first before he lost his nerve.

He hadn't counted on her being with someone, let alone that someone being Dean Thomas.

"Harry! Good to see you mate, how're things?"

Harry blinked stupidly for a moment before registering the situation. Ginny was here _with_ Dean. Well. That made things easier in some ways he supposed. Not that he thought she was still carrying a torch for him or anything… but still.

"Hey Dean, Hey Ginny."

"Hey Harry! I didn't realize you'd be out here this weekend. Oh Dean- a booth! Go grab it quick. Nudge the first years out if you have to. Did you want to join us Harry?"

Harry shook his head, amusing himself for a moment by considering to agree to what he knew what only a polite invite.

"I actually wanted to talk to you for a minute Gin, privately? It won't take long…"

Ginny's brow furrowed in concern. "Everything ok?"

"Yes! Yeah, better than ok. I just need to… yeah. Can we talk somewhere else?"

Ginny glanced back at Dean who was ordering butterbeers from the booth he'd managed to procure.

"Sure. Give me just a second to let Dean know."

Harry waited awkwardly by the doorway for Ginny to make her excuses to Dean. Harry couldn't be sure, but he felt Dean's expression was slightly less than friendly when Ginny gestured towards him. He vaguely hoped Dean didn't think he was trying to make any sort of move on his date, but he was too nervous to care that much.

Ginny made her way back to him and wordlessly followed him out of the pub and away from the bustling high street before Ginny stopped, planting her feet and waited. Harry had to smile. She knew him too well to let him stew for long. They'd end up walking halfway back to Hogwarts before he finally said anything if she didn't prompt him.

"Well?" she said, as though on cue, "Are you sure everything is ok Harry?"

Harry bit his lip. He hadn't really come up with a plan here, and this was the first time he was actually going to come out to someone (he didn't count telling Hermione. Hermione was in a league of her own as far as sharing his secrets went) and that someone happened to be his ex-girlfriend, who was also his new boyfriend's sister.

"I uh, I just wanted you to know that I… I met someone."

Ginny's expression softened, but her eyes still held some confusion.

"I mean, I met them ages ago, but you know what I mean…" Harry rambled.

"That's great Harry, honest. But, you don't have to… I mean, why are you telling me specifically? And why the secrecy?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair nervously. "It's a little complicated. I… I don't really want anyone else knowing just yet."

Ginny's eyes narrowed slightly at this. "Why? Is she super shy or something? Can't handle the Potter fame?"

"He can handle the Potter fame," Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

Ginny froze, her eyes going wide just as Harry realized what he'd said.

"_He_?"

Harry met her eyes, slightly panicked.

"...Yes? Umm. Yes. He."

Ginny just looked at him for a moment, wondering briefly why Harry looked so nervous before realization dawned on her.

"You're dating my brother, aren't you."

It wasn't a question, but Harry saw the corners of Ginny's mouth twitch as he nodded, and suddenly his nerves evaporated entirely.

"Don't tell Ron though. We haven't told him yet, and George isn't sure how we should break it to him."

"_What?!_" Ginny nearly shrieked, her wand drawn out of habit as Harry put his hands up defensively and roared with laughter.

"Sorry! I couldn't help it! It was too easy…"

Ginny lowered her wand and instead swatted Harry's arm, adding a few punches to his shoulder for good measure.

"Ow! Ok, ok! I'm sorry! But you should have seen your face."

Ginny sighed but laughed in spite of herself. "Seriously then? Are you and Ron together?"

"Yeah," Harry confirmed. "I… I'm not really ready to tell anyone else though, like I said Gin, ok? It's… well it's kind of a long story I guess. Hermione knows. And I told Ron we can tell your family. But that's it at the moment. Ok?"

"Of course Harry. I… this explains rather a lot actually," she said, suddenly overcome with a fit of giggles.

Harry cringed, fairly certain he should be embarrassed by that comment.

"Oh don't be like that. I think if you'd just told me you were gay I'd be slightly confused, but since you're with Ron… well, that just makes sense."

"Does it?" Harry asked, surprised by this.

"Of course it does." Ginny said, matter of factly, "It's you and Ron! It… oh bloody hell. It took you two ages to realize it, didn't it? I should have known…"

"Ginny…? What are you on about?"

Ginny just laughed and shook her head. "Nevermind. I'm happy for you Harry, really."

"Thanks Gin."

"I should probably get back to Dean. But I want details! Next Hogsmeade weekend, I get to join the booth with you three."

"Deal," Harry said, hugging her briefly.

Perhaps this wouldn't be so difficult after all.

* * *

Harry had been quite confident that kissing Ron in front of his family was the way to go about things. Ron had told him about his many coming out conversations and it didn't sound like anything Harry wanted to replicate. His approach would be much cleaner, he reasoned. Ron had just been amused by the whole thing, making it clear he was up for it, but that this was up to Harry.

Now that he was sitting here though, Molly Weasley encouraging him to eat more helpings than he needed, Arthur laughing with Bill about some enchanted muggle hair dryer he'd had to deal with at work, George sat right in front of him, lining up his peas into the perfect formation to strike Charlie, who had worked out a way to join them once a month for Sunday dinners, it felt a bit… much.

It didn't help that Ron had been infuriatingly flirtatious all night, finding any excuse to touch him or brush up against him. He wished he could find a way to have Ron snog _him_ instead. That would be… actually. Harry paused, his fork halfway to his mouth as an idea struck him. When it came to the little competition he and Ron had silently started, Harry was slightly ahead. It was usually Ron that caved and started snogging him first. Maybe if he…

The rest of the dinner, Harry fired back against Ron's teasing with a vengeance, even going so far as to rest his hand alarming high up on Ron's thigh under the table. He caught Ron's eye and his stomach did a small flip as he recognized the darkened gaze. He smirked.

When dessert was served, Harry found his moment as the conversation lulled and the Weasley's loaded cobbler onto their plates.

"Pass me the cream please babe?"

Ron's head swiveled to face Harry so fast his neck cricked. Harry just raised his eyebrows innocently, hand out for the dish of cream, ignoring the gazes of the Weasley's suddenly watching him.

Ron chuckled, amused at this different kind of boldness from Harry.

"You win, wanker," he muttered, before grabbing Harry by his shirt and pulling him into a kiss.

When they broke apart, the room silent around them, Harry grinned up at Ron, resolving to let Ron win a few rounds of their little contest over the next couple of days as a thank you.

"Ahem," George's exaggerated cough brought them back to the present. "Gentlemen…? Something you'd like to share with the table?"

Harry gave George a puzzled, look. "I'm just trying to get some cream mate."

George silently imploded, biting his knuckles dramatically to keep from making the joke he knew he couldn't say in front of his mother while Harry just smiled innocently at him.

"Ron?" Arthur asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Erm, so, is it alright if my boyfriend joins us for Sunday dinners from now on?"

Before anyone could respond to this, Harry found himself engulfed in Mrs. Weasley's arms. He would have been surprised if not for years of experience in Molly Weasley's outbursts of affection.

"It's about bloody time. Best treat him right Ron. Not sure mum will forgive you if you don't," Charlie quipped.

Ron was already bright red, but was spared from responding by Harry's indignant huff as Molly released him.

"I reckon I can handle him myself if he doesn't." Harry said.

"I'm sure you can handle him in all sorts of…"

"_George…_" Bill warned.

Fleur caught Ron's eye across the table and Ron gave her a small smile. She nodded knowingly and calmly resumed eating her pudding, seemingly disinterested in the proceedings. It occurred to Ron that Charlie may not have been the only observant person in the family.

Ron felt lighter than he had in ages around the Weasley dinner table. He still felt the pang in his chest at Fred's absence. Part of him hoped he always would. But he was certainly glad to feel his family's warmth and acceptance… and Harry's thigh pressed firmly against his own.


	8. Chapter 7

**Happy Pride Month everyone! I decided to let most of the angst take a back seat in this chapter as a celebratory salute (_most_ of the angst).**

**Chapter 7 - In which celebrity is still a royal pain, and Ron's birthday is notably better than last year's.**

* * *

It had been three weeks. That wasn't that long, even by Hogwarts' dating standards, where relationships that made it to the 8 week mark were considered "serious."

Harry therefore didn't think he was being the slightest bit unreasonable about this, Ron's birthday or not.

"You're not listening…"

"I hear you Ron! But you're not looking at it from my point of view!"

"If you would let me finish a sentence, maybe you…"

"I know what you're going to say though! That it's fine. It's no big deal. Blah, blah, blah…"

"Oi! I bloody well know what a big deal it is Harry! That's partly why I _want…_"

"I'M NOT READY, OK!?" Harry bellowed, "I'm sorry! I'm…"

"Woah, woah, woah…" Ron crossed the room to where Harry was standing, having switched from huffy anger to panic so quickly Ron felt slightly dizzy.

Up until half a second ago, Ron had been gearing up for what he thought was going to be their first fight as a couple. He wasn't completely convinced he still wasn't actually, but he didn't want Harry losing his head completely. His stomach wriggled uncomfortably at this new territory.

Harry had his arms crossed around himself, his face hard but his eyes betraying the panic he felt as Ron closed the distance to stand in front of him.

"Hey… Harry. Calm down ok? I'm not asking you to do anything you aren't ready for and I'm never going to, I promise. I _have_ promised."

Harry let out a puff of air, clearly still frustrated, but he at least dropped his arms to his side.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Ron replied, his hand pausing as he reached towards Harry, suddenly unsure of what he was supposed to do next. "Can we just… have an actual conversation maybe? Please?"

Sighing, Harry trudged over to the sofa and flopped down onto it, crossing his arms again before looking up at Ron with what was clearly a 'Fine, but I don't really want to' look.

Ron swallowed his annoyance and took a seat in the armchair, earning an eye roll from Harry. He stayed put though. He wouldn't be distracted. This was too important to him.

"Harry, I'm not asking you to come out."

"Yes you are…"

"_Hey,_" Ron cut across sharply, "would you let me finish? Bloody hell…"

Harry clamped his mouth shut and admitted, silently, that he was perhaps being a bit unfair. He still felt so wrong footed every time Ron demonstrated that he was the more patient of the two of them these days. It was driving him mad, but he was also eternally grateful. It was bloody confusing.

Ron took a deep breath and gave Harry a warning look before continuing. "I know you don't want to come out yet Harry and that is 100 percent ok with me, got it? But that doesn't mean that _I_ can't be out. I've never felt more comfortable in my own skin in my whole life! I don't want to go back to...not. I'm just done with that."

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. This is why he hadn't wanted to let Ron finish a sentence. There was no way he was winning the argument now.

"I'm not even going to make some big announcement or anything," Ron continued. "But you know Seamus and the guys- girls are bound to come up and I don't want to have to pretend to go along with it. That's all. They don't need to know anything about you, or about us. That's our business."

"Won't it be obvious though?" Harry asked feebly.

"Well unless you're planning on doing that thing with your tongue to me in the middle of the pub, I think I can manage to keep it together," Ron said with a smirk.

"That's not what I meant. I…" he took a deep breath. "I don't know how to act around you in front of our friends anymore," he admitted. "...and I… it freaks me out ok? Everything about being with you is fantastic Ron, seriously, but haven't you felt sometimes like it's a little bit strange? Not the being together part!" he corrected himself quickly at the look of alarm on Ron's face. "I just… for 8 years Ron, nothing has been more comfortable or more _right_ in my life than our friendship, but for the last month everything has been new and different and it's amazing and thrilling but also… terrifying? Have you not… I mean, is it really so easy for you to just slide into this… this whole new… _thing_ between us?"

Ron hadn't realized he'd stood up until he was halfway to the sofa. He sat down next to Harry, thighs touching, and pulled one of Harry's hands into his own. Harry laughed softly, his gaze on their hands.

"Like this," he lifted their joined hands. "How'd you know to do this? Don't get offended, but I'm just not used to… to…"

"Me being the more confident one?" Ron offered, finally succeeding in getting Harry to look at him.

Harry bit his lip and nodded. "Sorry? It's not a bad thing! It's actually… I really like it. A lot…"

Ron just smiled and pulled Harry's arm across himself and nudged Harry's leg with his own. Taking the hint, Harry shifted so that he was straddling Ron's lap, forehead pressed into his shoulder as Ron's hands rested at his hips in what was rapidly becoming their go to arrangement anytime things got overwhelming… in multiple contexts.

"This too," Harry mumbled, "What the bloody hell is _this_?"

Ron just waited silently until he could feel some of the tension leave Harry.

"Harry," Ron finally said, once he was confident Harry had left the impending panic zone, "I have no idea what the bloody hell I'm doing. No fucking clue."

Harry laughed and pulled his head up so he could look at Ron.

"You're joking right? Look at us! You somehow managed to get me from wanting to punch you 5 minutes ago to snuggled up in your lap like a bloody girl! Without making me _feel_ like a girl, which might be the part I'm the most baffled by honestly."

Ron just shrugged and laughed along with Harry. "I'm serious! I'm just winging it here mate! I keep waiting for you to tell me that I'm a complete moron or to start laughing in my face so I can go die of embarrassment, but as it hasn't happened yet, I figure I'll just keep… going with it. Does it… I mean does it really feel so wrong?"

Harry stilled at that, noting the change in Ron's tone.

"I never said it felt wrong," he said seriously, looking Ron in the eye properly now. "That's the last thing I want you to think. It's just… a _lot._ And that's not necessarily you all the time either. I… I get overwhelmed just leaving the house sometimes these days, you know that. So add in this whole new layer and I just… it's a lot. Not bad. And _definitely_ not wrong."

Ron nodded, shifting so he could press his forehead against Harry's.

"Do you not want to go? We can just skip it altogether."

"What? Of course we're going Ron. It's _your_ birthday do."

"I know but… I'm trying to compromise here. Isn't that what we're supposed to do?"

Harry snickered and Ron rolled his eyes. "Told you I have no idea what I'm doing."

"I think you already offered an appropriate compromise," Harry said. "You're out, I'm not. I.. I can handle that."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Just don't… don't do anything sneaky under the table or something."

Ron barked out a laugh, tightening his grip on Harry's hips as he did.

"I'll keep myself contained. Though I do think I'm going to need to have a side chat with Jonathan. He…" Ron heaved a sigh and leaned back into the sofa. "He's not exactly discreet mate. He knew I was hung up on you after less than two pints and he's relentless when he senses a secret."

"Is that why you haven't gone out with them since we got together?"

Ron shifted his gaze away from Harry and shrugged. It was Harry's turn to sigh.

"Out with it." he prompted.

Ron finally looked back up at Harry, who just waited.

"They… Jonathan, Andrew, and Oliver I mean, they really helped me when I came out. Just having somewhere I could go and ask questions without being embarrassed or… I don't know, just being with them in an ordinary social situation, I didn't know how important that would be. But it was. _Is_. This confidence you're talking about? Not so magical or even so sudden really. It was spending time with them, navigating coming out, all of that. I… look, again Harry, it really is ok that you aren't ready to come out, but I'm not going to be able to hide anything from certain people. So…"

"So you're just planning on avoiding them?" Harry replied, his frown deeper now, and a note of exasperation in his voice.

"Maybe?" Ron groaned and dragged his hands through his hair. "I don't really know. I hadn't gotten that far. It's not like I've been dying to get out of the house the last few weeks," he added suggestively, returning his hands to rest at Harry's hips.

Harry huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, surveying Ron who had gone back to avoiding eye contact.

"Here's the thing Ron," Harry said finally, "It's… it isn't so much that I don't want to be out. I actually… I mean, don't get upset…"

Ron arched an eyebrow at Harry. "You know it's really starting to annoy me when you start a sentence like that. Have I been upset with you about _any_ of this? I've been trying _really_ hard to be all mature and reasonable here. Thought I was doing a pretty decent job at it too..."

"Fair," Harry conceded, "you are. but some of what I'm about to say has historically been ah… a point of contention."

"Well I'm a new man. Go ahead and try me." Ron replied, a hint of a smile behind his otherwise firm expression.

Harry suppressed a smirk at Ron's bravado and unfolded his arms so he could drape them over Ron's shoulders, changing their proximity.

"Fine. I don't know if you're aware, but I'm very famous."

Ron snorted. He couldn't help it.

"Are you really!? Had no idea I was dating such a celebrity..."

Harry shook his head and plowed on. "I _hate_ being famous. At least for what I'm famous for, things I had no bloody control over. I hate the attention. I hate that I've been a marked man and the bloody chosen one my whole life. The second the wider world finds out I'm gay… god Ron, it's going to be _one more thing_! One more thing that I can't control that is suddenly newsworthy. It has absolutely nothing to do with being with you. It's just that it's one more piece of gossip to follow me around with. It… they'll cheapen it Ron. I don't want that. I… I also… I can't face them yet. The press I mean. The… fuck Ron. I haven't really told you this, but umm.. I'm seeing a therapist. Mind healer? Whatever they're called in the wizarding world."

Ron blinked. He wasn't entirely sure why the press and gossip mongers of the wizarding world had anything to do with Harry seeing a mind healer.

"Let me try that again," Harry said, pulling his arms away from Ron and attempting to cross them again before Ron reached out and stopped him, taking Harry's hands in his own and holding them reassuringly.

"Just… one thing at a time?" Ron suggested. "I know you hate being famous Harry. I totally get that. The other parts… I knew you'd signed up for the trauma recovery course, but I didn't realize you were doing more than that?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I should have told you earlier. It's… it's the war, sure, but also just… my entire fucking life? I…"

"Harry you don't need to justify to me why you sought a counselor. I think that's brilliant mate, honest. I… you know I was seeing one too for awhile right after… when Fred… yeah. I get it, is what I'm trying to say… what I'm doing a really shit job saying…"

Harry laughed and shook his head at their sudden awkwardness.

"I… yeah. Thanks. It's been really helpful actually. I don't think I realized just how serious all the anxiety was… how _not_ normal it was to be fighting that down all the time. Thelma, you know that witch that runs the mindfulness thingy for the aurors? She somehow got me to see sense after my first trauma course. I didn't handle it well, and… well, other people were rattled but not heaving messes on the floor. But anyway, I don't want to undo the progress I've made by suddenly throwing myself back into the center of the Wizarding world's attention. Especially with this. This is… god Ron, I don't want them to make this one more thing for me to be anxious about. I don't want this whole thing with us to be tainted by that. I know I sound crazy…"

"You don't," Ron interjected, trying to avoid the emotion building up in his chest. Other than that first night, they weren't usually so direct about how he felt about their relationship, apart from reassurances it was what they both wanted. Having Harry categorically express it wasn't something to be belittled was making his stomach do small backflips. "You really don't sound crazy at all mate, I promise."

"Good." Harry breathed a sigh of relief and leaned forward to press his forehead against Ron's again. "I… the only reason I don't want to parade us around is because I don't want the wrong people to get wind of it. I'm just not ready to combat that yet. And I know none of our friends would purposefully out us, but we don't even know for sure if any of them are going to be weird about it and the more people that know about it the more likely…"

"I know. I get it Harry. It's ok. It's really, truly ok."

They sat quietly for a moment and Harry ducked his head so it was buried against Ron's neck, fighting his instinct to pull away, reminding himself again that this was ok. Ron wanted this too. It wasn't weird.

"I want the people close to us to know," he said finally, voice muffled.

Ron wasn't sure what to say to that. It hadn't really occurred to him that the publicity would add a whole new level of complexity to their situation, and Harry had basically admitted adding that layer would be a threat to his mental health, even if he hadn't used those words. He didn't know what the right answer was.

"When you said this Jonathan guy, and Oliver and Andrew, they helped you with coming out- what exactly did you mean?" Harry asked, face still hidden in Ron's neck.

"They mostly just… I don't know exactly. They were this safe place to be myself I guess. They were really patient with how clueless I was… _am_," he snickered slightly. "Mate you won't even believe Jonathan. He's very uh… bold. And occasionally a bit much if I'm honest. But he means well, and despite being overwhelmingly invasive on the surface, he's always been respectful anytime I've drawn the line."

Harry picked his head up and looked at Ron, his expression contemplative.

"So he wouldn't out us?"

Ron shook his head. "Not if I asked him not to, no. Besides that, he's a muggle. Not like he can trot off to the Prophet's office."

"Let's tell them."

"Harry…"

"No really. I want to. Not… not the whole Hogwarts gang. Just... "

"The other gays?" Ron offered with a snort.

Harry laughed, the sound easing Ron's concern significantly.

"Yes. The other gays."

"So… I could floo Percy and tell him we'd like to come over for a birthday pint after the Hogwart's curfew?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

Harry sighed and shifted forward considerably in Ron's lap.

"Please stop asking me that. Yes. I'm sure. Can we shut up about all of this now?"

Ron laughed, digging a finger into Harry's ribs and causing him to squirm dramatically at the unfair ticklishness. Ron took full advantage of the situation and flipped Harry over so that he was pinned beneath him on the sofa.

"If you insist."

Harry laughed again, halfheartedly shoving Ron's shoulder. "Was that supposed to be smooth?"

Ron shrugged. "Not so concerned about being smooth with you, as long as it's effective…?"

Harry pulled Ron down to kiss him, not wanting to have to admit out loud that yes, it was indeed effective.

* * *

"That's why Gryffindors all sing, Weasley is our king!"

Ron shook his head as he lifted his pint amidst the cheers from his former housemates and friends. Aberforth looked beside himself with all the raucous, unaccustomed to so many lively patrons, despite the fact much of the DA frequented the pub nearly every Hogsmeade visit.

"You're all bloody hilarious," Ron called over the dull roar as the song wrapped up. "Thanks for coming out though."

"Happy birthday Ron!" someone called from a couple booths over.

"Cheers," Ron called back, wishing he could control his treacherous genes and keep his blush to a minimum.

The evening had been fun but not without it's strain. He'd squashed himself into a booth between Harry and Hermione the moment they arrived and allowed the DA gang and half of Gryffindor to rotate in and out of the booth to wish him many happy returns, but he'd been baffled with the sheer number of people that had turned up. Several of them seemed to feel that in addition to a birthday greeting, they ought to offer awkward condolences or thier thanks for his part in bringing Voldemort down. It made him distinctly uncomfortable. How he'd ever been jealous of Harry about this before was a mystery to him now.

He was grateful when finally, the first curfew was near and most of the crowd began to dissipate, leaving only the 8th year Gryffindors, Ginny, and Luna, at the pub, who had been granted an extended curfew for Hogsmeade weekends being they were all of age… and war veterans, to be frank.

"Right," Seamus announced as he plopped down in the Trio's booth next to Dean and began passing around shots of firewhiskey, "now that the kiddies have departed, how about a proper birthday toast, yeah?" he held his glass up and Ron felt himself blushing deeply again as his friend's followed suit. "To Ron Weasley, a genuine hero and every bit the brave lion befitting of our House."

"To Ron, whose snores _rival _any lion," Dean added.

"Oi!"

Despite his protest, Ron was glad for Dean's jibe. He didn't need to remind the witches and wizards at their magically enlarged booth that they had faced down death and worse a year ago. They may have been barely 19, but they had all fought a war and won. On the surface, their bond was that of school mates, having endured the proximity and pseudo family ties only a boarding school could produce, but occasionally, a trained eye could see it was more.

"To Gryffindor's most controversial keeper in the last century," Ginny added, earning several chuckles and eyerolls from both Ron and Harry.

"In all seriousness," Hermione broke in, "To Ron, who is the best, most loyal friend anyone could ever ask for. Who loves fiercely, protects earnestly, and brings light to the darkest places. To Ron."

"To Ron," the group echoed before taking their shots.

"Honestly," Parvati huffed, "just snog him already Granger."

Hermione gasped as though scandalized, but before she could say anything, Ron placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

"I'm afraid that would be a bit of a let down, considering girls don't really do it for me."

The absolute silence that followed this statement was only broken by Ginny's snicker, and Harry's brief choking on his butterbeer. Ron may not be the most eloquent bloke on the planet, but he was a Gryffindor through and through.

"I'm sorry," Lavender said at last, "But… what?"

Ron swallowed. After the initial statement he suddenly had no idea what to do next and wanted to sink into the floor. He briefly considered apparating but wasn't sure he'd be able to properly turn, squashed as he was between Harry and Hermione.

Harry and Hermione. The two people outside of his family that meant more to him than breathing. Hermione was shifting her arm to link it with his, bolstering him, while Harry discreetly rested his hand reassuringly on Ron's knee beneath the table, staring stonily at their friends as though daring them to say anything negative.

"What does that mean?" Neville asked.

"Honestly Nev," Ginny said, marveling that he had to ask. "It means…"

"Your gay?" Seamus finished for her. He had his head cocked to one side, surveying Ron with an indiscernible expression.

Ron's blush was at defcon 10, and he took a slow sip of his pint, trying his damndest to stay put and see this through.

"Yep," he said simply.

"Huh," Seamus replied, his jaw still slightly slack as he mulled this new information over.

"You're serious?" Dean asked, "It's not a funny thing to joke about Ron…"

"Why would I joke about it?" Ron asked, indignant.

"Well I don't know! Just seems… I mean, we all thought for sure you and Hermione were just being really weird and not admitting you were dating."

"Well they aren't," Harry chimed in, his grip tightening on Ron's knee beneath the table, earning a small chuckle from Ron and a soft 'tsk' from Hermione.

It was a mistake though. He hadn't mean to sound… possessive. But the look Luna was giving him… bloody Luna. He caught her eye and gave her a small shake of his head as she grinned.

"What Harry is trying to say," Hermione intervened, "is that Ron is quite serious and if any of you have an issue with it you may politely remove yourself from the remainder of the evening's festivities."

"Oh pipe down Hermione," Seamus laughed. "Ron, good for you mate."

"It's not like you're the only one in Gryffindor," Parvati added.

"Uhh I'm not?"

Parvati rose her eyebrows and Lavender snickered.

"Not by a long shot mate," Neville laughed.

"Demelza?" Parvati offered.

"Jimmy Peakes?" said Neville.

"Oliver Wood?" Seamus added.

"Seriously?" Ron's brain was buzzing. Was he really this out of touch?

"Ah don't sweat it Ron. Jimmy came out last year while you lot were off defeating evil or whatever," Ginny filled him in. "But yes, seriously."

"Right. Well…"

"Oohhh!" Seamus piped up suddenly, "You're welcome for all the free shows mate! HA! I should have charged to sleep in the buff!"

"Uhg, gross," Parvati wrinkled her nose and Seamus winked at her.

Ron looked slightly horror struck and Hermione dissolved into a fit of giggles while Harry dropped his head to the table and groaned.

"Must you remind us of that phase of your life Seamus?" Harry muttered, not looking up.

"Seamus, I assure you," Ron said evenly, "No one, and I mean _no one_, wanted to see that."

Seamus just waggled his eyebrows and turned to Lavender.

"Not one word Finnegan," she said sharply before he could open his mouth.

"Well on that note," Dean announced firmly, cutting across any retort Seamus may have been considering, best mates that they were, "We have a curfew to meet. Happy birthday again Ron. Let us know the next time you and Harry are coming up here."

"Cheers Dean, will do."

After much shuffling and rounds of 'see you soons' and 'happy birthdays' only Ginny, Luna, and Hermione remained, Ginny smiling affectionately at Ron and Hermione positively beaming at him.

"I'm so pro…"

"Oh please don't," Ron begged before Hermione could get started. "I… just please, let it be?"

Hermione closed her mouth, but couldn't hide the fact that her eyes were shining.

"Were you expecting people to be unkind about it?" Luna asked in that innocent and succinct way only Luna could.

"Erm, not unkind really. Just maybe a bit… weirded out?"

"Oh. Is that why you didn't tell them you and Harry are together?"

Ginny clapped her hand over her mouth to hide her laugh as Ron's eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

"Luna!" Hermione chided.

"It's ok," Harry laughed, "I should have known you'd figure it out Luna, you always do. I'm just not really ready to be public about it, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone for now? I mean, Hermione and Ginny know… obviously."

Luna nodded. "I understand. I think it's lovely though. Don't hide it for too long."

Harry smiled and impulsively reach out and hugged Luna.

"Shit, we really need to go," Ginny announced, realizing they were dangerously close to curfew. "Come on girls- we'll need to apparate straight to the gate."

Within a matter of moments, Harry and Ron were alone outside the hogshead, tightening their cloaks against the chilly evening as they headed towards the high street.

"You really are brilliant you know."

Ron looked over at Harry with a puzzled expression. "Erm… thanks?"

Harry just smirked and shook his head. "Nevermind. Ready for round two?"

Ron grinned, and Harry had to admit it may have been worth agreeing to tell Jonathan, Oliver, and Andrew about them just to see Ron light up like this.

"You really can change your mind…"

"Uhg stop it. You just came out to half of Gryffindor without batting an eye. I'm sure I can handle telling three other gay blokes I'm in the club. Besides, didn't you already tell them I was coming?"

"Well yeah. But I just told them my best mate was coming along. I didn't say my… uhh..."

"Malfoy?"

"What?" Ron asked, confused, until he realized Harry had nearly run headlong into Draco Malfoy who appeared to be in a great hurry to exit the Three Broomsticks.

Draco looked distinctly startled to see the pair of them, but quickly composed himself as he shuffled past with a curt nod before apparating away.

"Blimey," Ron commented. "He looked a bit of a mess didn't he? Cutting it a bit close to curfew too."

"Mmm," Harry nodded, a torn expression on his face. "I still think it's weird he's back at school. I keep meaning to ask Hermione about him."

"Oh? Why's that?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno really. I sort thought he was let off too easy at first, probation and mandatory schooling? But the more I think about it, the more I think he's probably enduring worse at Hogwarts than he would anywhere else..."

"Harry…"

"Yeah?"

Ron was giving him a very funny look, as though deciding whether or not it was worth saying what he wanted to.

"What?" Harry prompted, not liking the look Ron was giving him.

"You uh…" Ron paused and laughed uncomfortably, "You really didn't think that maybe you were, ya know" he gestured vaguely, aware they were in a public place and of Harry's anxiousness about being outed, "I just mean, you were awfully obsessed with Malfoy…"

Harry's jaw dropped as he stared incredulously at Ron.

"_What?!_" he hissed.

Ron had to work very hard not to burst into laughter. Not that he wanted to suggest to Harry that perhaps he'd fancied Malfoy, his newly formed confidence hadn't quite reached the point where he wanted Harry contemplating other blokes, even retroactively, but… really, they had both been such clueless idiots.

Harry's expression meanwhile had morphed into one of abject shock and horror, and at that point Ron couldn't hold it in anymore and he nearly doubled over laughing.

"This… Ron… NO!. I… fucking fuck, no, no, NO!"

"It's alright mate. I mean, let's face it, he does have a pretty nice ar…"

"DON'T!" Harry near screamed, "Never! Don't! Oh dear Goddrick this is… no. I might be sick."

"We've all had weird crushes. It's not like you were obsessed with… I dunno, Goyle or something."

"Can we not?" Harry asked weakly. "I don't want to think about it. Let's just get our floo powder and I'm going to forget this whole conversation ever happened."

Ron just continued to snicker as he opened the door to the Three Broomsticks and nodded for Harry to go in. They greeted Madame Rosmerta and handed over their coins for the floo and made their way to one of the many fireplaces to head off to Percy's flat.

Ron stepped easily out of Percy's fireplace and immediately shifted to his left, counting slowly to 5 before dutifully sticking an arm out in front of the hearth. Harry appeared, stumbling forward until he caught Ron's arm, rather than the rug adorning Percy's bedroom floor.

"Thanks mate… hate the bloody floo."

"Splinch yourself a few times and you'll learn to prefer it," Ron replied.

"Ronnie!"

Harry gave Ron a slightly startled look. "Ronnie?"

"I warned you," was all Ron said as he made his way out of Percy's room.

"Happy birthday Ronnie! What took you so long? I thought Wizards could snap their fingers and show up wherever they wanted? And for heaven's sake what is in your hair? Is that _soot_? Honest to god man, how do you ever expect to… Oh! You must be Harry!"

"Er, yeah. Nice to meet you."

Jonathan smiled coyly at Harry and extended his hand while Ron headed towards the kitchen to greet Oliver, Percy, and Andrew.

"The pleasure is definitely mine," Jonathan replied, not bothering to hide the keen once over he gave Harry. "I didn't realize you'd be such a walking cliche! Wizarding kind's saviour and devilishly handsome? Though the way Ron talks, you'd much rather not have your face plastered all over the place. More's the pity, hiding that jawline! In all seriousness though, I know you guys don't like to bring it up, but my sister is a muggle born witch, so if you don't mind my saying so- thank you for what you did."

Harry blinked, slightly taken aback by the onslaught. Despite the excessive use of words, and the flirting Jonathan wasn't even trying to be subtle with, there was an earnestness from him that Harry didn't often experience when random people in the wizarding world thanked him. It wasn't that he didn't think they were heartfelt, but it was always done with a vague sense of hero worship behind it. That wasn't the case here.

"Enough about that though," Jonathan moved on before Harry could even respond, "I've heard so much about you and simply must hear from you myself…"

"Let the man breathe Jonathan," Oliver interrupted, clasping Harry's hand and gesturing for him to make his way to the sitting room, lest he be stuck in the hallway with Jonathan forever.

"Good to see you Harry. This is my boyfriend, Andrew, not sure you've ever met?"

Harry shook his head and extended his hand to Andrew in greeting, grateful to have been rescued. He searched the room to find Ron, who was positively buzzing, grinning widely at something Percy was saying, though Harry couldn't make out what. He hadn't really had enough time to get nervous, and now that he was here, he understood why Ron had wanted him to meet this group so badly.

"Uhg, Ronnie darling, beer? Again? Let me make you a proper birthday drink. I still cannot believe you wanted to spend your birthday night here, when all of London is available to you!" Jonathan whined as they made themselves comfortable in Percy's sitting room.

"I'm perfectly happy with my pint, thank you very much. And I don't know how many times I have to explain to you that I _like_…"

"Yes, yes. You _enjoy _the quiet life. I _know_," Jonathan flopped dramatically into the armchair next to Harry, folding his overlong legs across the arm as he tilted his head back to look imploringly at Harry. "You're supposed to be his best mate. Maybe you can help me knock some sense into his thick ginger skull."

"Not likely," Ron interjected. "I'm a right social butterfly compared to this one."

Jonathan sighed and propped himself up to better survey Harry. Harry for his part couldn't decide whether to laugh or blush or what. He wasn't sure he knew anyone that could talk as much as Jonathan, though he had the vague feeling he and Ginny would get on like wildfire.

"Well I actually don't know a whole lot about this one now do I? Shall we start with the basics?"

"Err…"

"Don't feel like you have to participate Harry," Oliver said, "though you should know, he's relentless."

Jonathan just grinned at Harry in response and Harry let out a small laugh.

"Oh go on then…"

"You caved much too quickly," Andrew groaned. "It's better if you at least make him work a little bit for it."

"Oh hush! I'm not that bad," Jonathan replied, ignoring the less than subtle 'are toos' from Ron and Oliver. "ANYWAY, Harry dear. Forgive this lot, they can be very unsociable. I on the other hand, like to get to know my guests."

"Excuse me, but whose flat are we in again?"

Jonathan ignored Percy as he began his questions, only slightly varied from the string he had given Ron ages ago. Ron suddenly found himself slightly jittery. He and Harry hadn't discussed how exactly they were going to tell his friends about them, and he knew where Jonathan's questions would inevitably go…

"Oh give it up Potter! 5 foot 9 my left bum cheek!"

Ron focused back in on the conversation at Oliver's protests, laughing as Harry crossed his arms and 'hrmphed.'

"Fine. 5 foot 8 and a half but it should really be acceptable to round up!"

"Right mate. Maybe if you were 5' 8 and three quarters…"

"Oh who cares," Jonathan said, "not like anyone is going to complain with the eyes he's got on him! And we all know size isn't everything." he winked at Percy who took a composed sip of his tea in response. "Now then! First person you ever kissed?"

Harry blinked, startled by the change in direction. "Err. Cho Chang."

"Well that's not a helpful answer," Jonathan chastised. "Where? When? Was it good?"

Harry barked out a laugh at this. "At school, my 5th year, and god no, it wasn't good."

"Well hopefully you've had opportunities to improve since then. First kisses aren't usually anything to write home about…"

"This one was particularly bad," Ron needled, smirking at Harry who responded with a huff.

"She cried. Rather a lot... the whole time actually," Harry explained before Jonathan could ask.

Andrew snorted into his beer, clearly trying to hold it together for Harry's sake and failing, and Harry didn't miss the brief eye contact Oliver and Percy made before quickly looking away lest they dissolve into hysterics at Harry's expense.

"Well," Jonathan said bracingly, "Did you have better luck with whoever came next?"

This time it was Harry who had to fight down his laughter as Ron quickly interjected with a sharp "Nope! Off limits."

"Ron, Harry is a perfect liberty to discuss whatever he's comfortable with," Percy began to lecture.

"Well the next person Harry snogged was Ginny, so if you want further details on that, by all means!"

Oliver's resolve broke at last as he began to snicker at Percy's stricken expression.

"I stand corrected." Percy said quickly.

Jonathan looked fit to burst, clearly loving the drama. Harry was grinning as well, fighting down the funny backflips his stomach was doing as he geared up for the next question, knowing already that Jonathan's reaction was going to be… less than subtle. He may not have wanted the attention, but he could feel how excited Ron was from where he was sitting and that made this whole show worth it as far as he was concerned.

"Doesn't really matter," Harry said. "As it turns out, third time's the charm."

"Oh?" Jonathan asked, "Ron I thought you said Harry was single?"

"Well three weeks ago, he was," Ron replied casually, and as though they'd rehearsed it, stretched his arm out behind Harry, just as Harry leaned into him.

Jonathan's eyes widened as he looked at the pair of them in a rare moment of speechlessness, ignoring Oliver's muttered 'I knew it.'

"Ronnie!" he finally managed. "Do you mean to tell me that your 'extremely straight,' saviour of the Wizarding World, broomstick flying prodigy, wizard champion whatsit, best mate and roommate, is in fact…"

"Totally gay," Harry supplied, figuring he may as well be the one to say it this time, rather than let Ron handle it as he had with the Weasleys.

"_SHUT!_ UP! And you're together? Oh my dear sweet Jesus, this is… Explain! Explain, explain, explain!"

Ron snorted and boldly dropped his arm from the back of the sofa to drape across Harry's shoulders, causing Harry to sink even further into him. He couldn't stop grinning. He felt like a complete idiot actually but he couldn't be arsed to care. He thought vaguely that this was the best birthday he'd ever had. Ever.

"Is there really anything to explain?" Harry asked, genuinely perplexed.

Jonathan's jaw hung open incredulously. "Is there… you can't possibly be serious?! Do I really have to tell you how outrageously unusual this is? Not to mention _sickeningly_ romantic? Two best mates, one openly gay and pining hopelessly for the other, _actually_ getting together? This is _never_ how this goes!"

"I wouldn't call it hopelessly pining..." Ron muttered, to which Oliver had to smother a laugh that he quickly tried to disguise as a cough.

"Well I was completely oblivious to his pining, whatever that's worth," Harry replied.

Ron groaned. "'S not worth much mate. You're thicker than I am."

"_Is _he now?" Jonathan chimed in smugly, causing everyone to roll their eyes. "I really _must_ hear how this happened, but first I'm making proper drinks. This is cause for celebration over and above your birthday Ronnie and I will not hear of you making it anything less!"

With that, Jonathan marched into Percy's kitchen, shouting that they weren't to say another word until he returned.

When they finally made it back to Grimmauld place nearly 2 hours later and on the drunker side of tipsy thanks to whatever the hell Jonathan's pink monstrosities were, Harry stumbled out of the floo and into Ron's chest, barely getting his feet under him before Ron was kissing him.

"Thank you," Ron breathed between kisses, "I know you weren't really keen on telling them, but… thank you."

Harry chuckled and returned Ron's kisses with equal measure. If this was how Ron was going to react anytime they told someone about them… well, he thought he could probably get used to it.

"I'm glad we did. I understand why you wanted to," Harry replied when Ron finally let him up for air. "And as much as I'd like to continue this, there's an owl on here that looks desperate to be relieved of it's package so it can be on its way, and I need to grab your birthday gift."

Reluctantly, Ron let go of Harry and grinned sheepishly at him. "I get a present on top of all this?"

Harry shook his head and laughed. "I've been getting you a birthday present the last 8 years Ron."

Ron just shrugged as he made his way to the harassed looking owl while Harry disappeared to get Ron's gift. He returned moments later to find Ron, jaw slack and his eyes wide with shocked horror, a small bottle in one hand and what appeared to be a note in the other. He was positively crimson.

"Er, everything alright?"

Ron jumped and spun around, his expression still one of mild distress.

"What've you got?"

For a moment, Ron looked as though he were going to try and hide whatever he was holding, but he seemed to stunned to move as Harry came over to him, noticing the book on the table for the first time still partly in its wrapping.

"'The Wizard's Guide to Wands'? Is this from Hermione? I know books are tradition and all but since when are you into wandlore? I…"

Harry froze, his eyes bulging as he picked up the book and the cover was properly revealed. This was most decidedly not a book on wandlore.

"Please tell me this isn't from Hermione," he said weakly, staring at the cover rather than looking up at Ron.

Ron shook his head violently, seemingly still unable to form actual words and handed the note in his hand to Harry.

_Dear Ron,_

_Happy Birthday little brother! I thought I'd send this separate to the rest of the mail, as I'm not sure if Mum thought she'd dish up a birthday breakfast for you (seems like the sort of thing she'd decide to do without warning) and I assume you wouldn't want her seeing this. _

_As _12 Failsafe Ways to Charm Witches _isn't going to do you much good, and anything you've potentially picked up from Bill, myself, Percy or even George is probably less than useful in your case, I figured a correction was in order. (And actually, all of Bill's sex advice is useless, if you want to know). In any case, happy explorations!_

_Love,_

_Charlie_

Harry looked up at Ron, now matching his crimson blush. Ron didn't quite meet Harry's eye as he set the bottle of what Harry could now see was lube down next to the book and cleared his throat.

"I actually can't decide if this would have been better or worse coming from Hermione," he said at last.

Harry burst into laughter and Ron joined him a beat later. What other response was there really?

"I'm afraid my gift is going to seem quite boring in comparison," Harry finally said once they'd managed to stop snickering. "Here."

Ron wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve, still laughing a bit as Harry handed over an envelope. He opened it wordlessly before his eyes widened and he snapped his head up to look at Harry.

"Harry. Seriously?"

Harry shrugged.

"This is way too much mate! I… you really didn't have to…"

"Oh stop it," Harry cut him off. "It's not that extravagant. It's the off season for one, and you know people aren't exactly lining up to watch the Cannons play. Besides I sort of thought, well, it'd be nice to take my boyfriend on a proper date."

Ron stilled and looked at Harry. It was the first time Harry had ever called him his boyfriend. On top of that, Harry had called this a date. They'd never really discussed actual dates and he was pretty sure walking up the road to grab a curry takeaway didn't count as such.

Ron set the quidditch tickets down as Harry fidgeted, doing his best not to look nervous about his gift and only partially succeeding.

"This," Ron finally said, "is hands down, the best birthday of my life."

Harry would have replied, but he suddenly found his mouth otherwise occupied.

* * *

**Please Review! You have no idea how much it's appreciated.**


	9. Chapter 8

**Apologies for the long stretch between updates. As noted at the beginning, this is really more or less a collection of scenes than it is a story with an actual plot, and I've come to the place where I've needed to do some considerable re-work to have it actually make any sense. In any case, onwards we go. Your reviews are VERY much appreciated!**

**Chapter 8 - In which things get physical, and secrets are hard to keep.**

* * *

Ron sighed contentedly as Harry kissed him along his jawline and down to his neck.

He really, truly, couldn't think of a better birthday. He was officially out to anyone that mattered to him, no more hiding, and not one person had taken it badly. At least not to his face, which was fine by him really, considering his _boyfriend_ was Harry bloody Potter, _and_ said boyfriend had even told some people about them! Even if it was only 3 people, Ron couldn't properly articulare his elation about it.

Lo and behold, the world hadn't ended; it was entirely possible that no one actually gave much of a damn that they snogged each other senseless every night.

Well, snogged and grinded, Ron amended, groaning as Harry shifted his weight so that he was half spread on top of his chest. Did he mention this was the best birthday he could remember?

It was a pretty brilliant arrangement as far as he was concerned. They'd managed to come down a bit from their initial frantic… well, humping, for lack of a more elegant way to put it. They'd kept their clothes on for the most part thus far, though Harry had recently taken to discarding his shirt mid snog, and Ron had noted with some amusement that both of them seemed to select their thinnest cotton sleep trousers to wear to bed, rather than the heavier flannels more suited to the season.

The snogging had gotten decidedly more sensual in the few weeks they'd been doing this as well, and Ron's brain very nearly exploded when Harry had first taken off his shirt. He felt a bit stupid over his reaction really; it wasn't like he'd never seen Harry without a shirt before. Context was everything though. He hadn't ever been allowed to _properly_ look before, let alone touch. Which he was doing now, loving the feeling of Harry's muscled back under his fingers.

Though they'd both earned their Gryffindor badges over the last few weeks, Ron had intentionally let Harry set the pace for how quickly they moved things along. They'd not talked about it, but Ron understood that anything physical for Harry was a bit more complicated than it was for other people, especially in the arena of affection.

Regardless, they were adults, completely smitten, and sharing a bed. Harry had easily matched Ron's enthusiasm for the situation.

Ron really should have known they were due for a bit of a road block.

Harry pulled back and slid his hands under Ron's shirt, the request in his eyes. Ron nodded before he'd properly thought it through (thinking wasn't a particularly strong suit of his in moments like this) and he suddenly remembered why he hadn't joined Harry the first time shirts coming off had been an option.

Harry was too busy drinking in a half naked Ron to notice anything amiss. He loved Ron's shoulders. They'd taken awhile, but they'd broadened in the last few years, balancing out what would otherwise have been a gangly physique. He'd never be classified as burly like George and Charlie, but Ron sure as hell wasn't all that lanky anymore.

He began to trace his fingers along Ron's sides, in the subtle grooves of his abs, steadily upwards. He wanted to count every freckle, but that would take him hours. Maybe someday, he thought idly as his fingers grazed across Ron's chest.

Ron flinched.

Harry looked up, confused by the reaction, and realized for the first time that Ron had tensed, his fists clenched at his sides and his eyes shut tightly, his face a grimace.

"Ron?"

When Ron didn't reply, Harry pulled back and sat up, worry creased across his face.

Kicking himself mentally, Ron pushed himself up and knocked his head back against the headboard with a thud. He immediately pulled his arms around himself, crossing over his chest with a hand covering his shoulder, his other arm hugging himself across his waist, covering as much as he could.

"Sorry," he mumbled, looking anywhere but at Harry.

Slightly dumbfounded, Harry just watched as Ron curled in on himself, obviously trying to hide, but what, Harry couldn't imagine. Then, as Ron spread his hand over his shoulder, trying to cover more of it, it hit him.

He'd noticed, in 6th year after the department of mysteries, that Ron almost always wore long sleeves. Year round. He'd said nothing. But he'd noticed.

"Hey, look at me."

Ron complied, mostly because Harry had just asked so normally. He hadn't said it softly or sweetly, or in any way that would have just made Ron feel like more of a tit.

Harry was looking at him in a way that made his insides squirm, and not in quite the same way he'd had him squirming 5 minutes ago.

Harry reached over and pulled Ron's hand away from his shoulder, his splinched shoulder, and thread his fingers through Ron's. He'd never done that before, laced their fingers like this, and it was oddly intimate in a way that was different to the snogging and grinding they'd been doing.

"Talk to me," Harry said, forcing Ron without words to maintain eye contact.

Ron let out a small 'hrmph' as he dropped his head against the headboard again with another thud.

"Isn't one of the perks of not dating a woman that you don't have to talk about this stuff?"

Harry chuckled. "In theory I suppose, but at the moment, something is preventing me from undressing my boyfriend, which I was really rather looking forward to doing."

Ron's mouth suddenly went a bit dry at hearing Harry talk about undressing him.

"I look like minced meat," Ron mumbled finally, dropping his gaze from Harry's again.

Harry sat quietly for a moment, trying to decide how to proceed. There was obviously more to it than that.

"You don't." he said simply, "Help me out here Ron."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I do Harry. I mean look at me! I'm more scars than I am skin from my wrists to my chest, and then _that_ is covered in scorch marks. I'm just lucky I can hide it under normal circumstances."

"I don't think they're anything to be ashamed of Ron. If you hadn't been so busy freaking out, you might have noticed that just the sight of you without a shirt, in my bed, required all of my self control not to just launch myself at you! Maybe there's a reason girls always want to talk about this stuff," he added, running his free hand through his hair in exasperation, "as I've clearly done a poor job of making it clear just how bloody attractive I think you are."

Ron finally looked back up at Harry, confirming that there was indeed more to it than general self consciousness. So Harry waited, patiently running his thumb across the back of Ron's as the red head untangled his thoughts.

"They're all evidence of the times I've let you down," he finally said.

"_What_?" Harry was stunned by this. Genuinely, honestly, stunned.

Ron pulled his hand back from Harry's, crossing it back over his chest and shoulder, as Harry gaped at him.

"No," Harry said firmly, surprised to find he was actually angry, "That's not even possible Ron because you have _never_ let me down!"

Ron flinched at this, closing his eyes again. Harry forced himself to calm down, knowing Ron well enough to know when he was at risk of shutting down. Finally, Ron took a deep breath and uncrossed his arms again.

"Here," he said, thrusting his arms straight out in front of himself, forearms up so that the worst of the ribbon patterned scars of the brains were visible, "we have the evidence of the time I wasn't able to duel alongside you at the department of mysteries- evidence of my inability to take care of my sister so that you could focus on the mission at hand. Evidence of why I couldn't be there for you when… after… when Sirius…" he trailed off, dropping his arms and moving on to his next scar. "And here," he pointed to the mangled skin of his shoulder, "we have evidence of the time I was completely useless while you and Hermione managed to get the horcrux out of the ministry- the evidence of how I then lost us our safe haven because I couldn't shake Yaxley off. And then _here,_" Ron slammed his hand much harder than necessary across the welts on his chest, "here we have the evidence of when I _left _you." He didn't elaborate on the last one. He couldn't have, even if his voice hadn't just cracked slightly.

Harry sat quietly while Ron raged, wishing for all he was worth that his gut had been wrong about this being about more than just a bit of body consciousness. He'd never seen any of what Ron said the way Ron had just described it, but it suddenly felt a little silly that he'd thought Ron knew that.

"They look a bit different, from where I sit," he said at last.

Ron didn't answer, just continued to cross his arm over himself.

Harry scooted forward a bit and once again removed Ron's hand from covering his shoulder.

"These," he began tracing the coils of brain scars, "remind me of the time my best friend refused to let me run headlong into danger alone- the time he survived a battle with death eaters twice his age, and protected everyone who was with him." Harry followed the coils with his fingers to where they ended at Ron's biceps. He shifted again so that he could comfortably reach up to Ron's shoulder. "And this one reminds me of the time my best friend fought off a fully grown wizard in the middle of an apparation he wasn't leading, choosing to sever his own flesh rather than risk exposure. It reminds me of the time my best friend showed us what a brilliant strategist he is by mapping out a plan to infiltrate the Ministry of Magic, of all things."

He paused here, leaning over Ron to kiss the scarred shoulder and along the scarred flesh that extended up slightly towards his neck. Ron, for his part, had gone completely still, trying very hard not to make a spectacle of himself by doing something completely ridiculous, like cry.

"And these," Harry put his hands flat against Ron's chest, thumbs softly grazing the scorch marks left behind by the locket. "Bloody hell… these remind me of my best friend, my friend who is more than I have ever deserved, enduring _months_ of silent, mental torture, enduring what was essentially _dark magic poisoning_, which I didn't even know what a _thing_, because he knew I needed him. They remind me of my brave best friend who, after he'd finally managed to get away from the torment, came _back to it. _Willingly. For me. Because I needed him. Because he _knew_ I needed him."

Harry kissed Ron then, only it was different than before, still passionate but heavy with a different kind of need. He needed Ron to understand- needed him to know that nothing about Ron was ugly, as far as he was concerned, least of all the scars he bore- scars he'd obtained, in every case, while showing up for, and protecting, Harry.

Ron got the message, returning the kiss with equal measure, the apology for hiding thrumming through the action. He flipped them over so that Harry was partially pinned beneath him, groaning as their bare skin met.

"I also," Harry gasped out as Ron broke their lips apart and began trailing kisses down Harry's jaw and neck, "want to make it very clear… _fuck_..." he hissed as Ron nipped playfully at the soft skin where his neck met his shoulder, "...that I think you are… _ahh_… quite possibly… _shit_ _Ron_, do that again," Ron complied, chuckling slightly as Harry arched his back for more contact. "...you are quite possibly," Harry continued, "...the sexiest person I have ever…" he inhaled sharply as Ron's hand splayed gently but insistently lower, his fingers edging just below the waistband of Harry's sleep trousers, playing lightly with the trail of dark hair there.

Ron waited, pausing his kissing to look up at Harry's face, leaving it up to him whether or not they went any further.

"...If you stop now, I might actually murder you..."

* * *

Hermione sighed and tossed her quill haphazardly across the table she was attempting to study at, earning a snort of amusement from Ginny, though she dutifully kept her eyes on her own text book.

"I knew I should have stayed in today. Any time we end up going to Hogsmeade I convince myself I'll just head down for an hour or two and wind up being talked into staying all afternoon and…"

"And wind up taking a proper break, and catching up with your two best friends who you desperately miss no matter how much you try to hide it?"

Hermione frowned and crossed her arms petulantly as Ginny grinned at her.

"Oh come on Hermione. It's ok to take a day off from time to time. I know exams are coming up. I know you want to do well. _I know_. But seriously, without Ron and Harry in school with you, I worry I'm going to wake up to find you haven't left the library in 3 days and have died of dehydration!"

"Oh don't be so dramatic…"

"It's not dramatic and you know it. I let it go when we got back from the holiday break because… well, because I know you needed the distraction, but it's time to enjoy your last few weeks of school."

Hermione sighed again and stared resolutely over Ginny's shoulder and into the fireplace. It wasn't that she disagreed with Ginny. She just didn't like that after nearly 7 months living apart from Ron and Harry, she still hadn't fully adjusted to life without them. She was grateful, so very grateful for the relationships she'd forged with her classmates this year, but there was no replacing Harry and Ron and the things they had been through together.

Before she could respond to Ginny however, Seamus, Dean, and Neville suddenly appeared at their study table, pulling up chairs and giving both Hermione and Ginny curious glances as Seamus flipped both of their textbooks closed.

"Oi!" Ginny griped, "Some of us are trying to study here Shay…"

"Yeah yeah. We know, "Seamus replied. "The thing is, we've been discussing this afternoon's events at the three broomsticks and we have some… questions."

Ginny caught Hermione's eye before quickly looking away. They'd not discussed the day's trip over to Hogsmeade, and the few butterbeers they'd had with Harry and Ron and the gang before returning to the common room to study, but she had a feeling she knew where this conversation was about to go.

Harry and Ron has stopped over before they were due at the Chudley Cannons match that evening and had been, for lack of a better word, giddy. While Ginny was perfectly happy for them, and their behavior wasn't actually anything _too _obvious, anyone paying attention could see there was some sort of shift between the two. And for Merlin's sake, did Harry not realize how odd it was to keep his hand beneath the table for the duration of two rounds of drinks? Not that anyone else could see his hand on Ron's knee, but she had been crammed on the same side of the booth as them and therefore could see the near constant contact between the two.

"Is it just me," Seamus continued, "or did our favorite heroes seem a little… enthusiastic?"

Hermione had already taken her book back from Seamus and resumed her reading. Or at least appeared to be. She continued to look resolutely at the text as she answered.

"I will never understand what it is about quidditch that lights those two up so thoroughly."

"True," Neville conceded, "but that's not quite what we mean."

"Just spit it out," Ginny said.

"Ok look," Dean put in, leaning against the table and once again pulling Hermione's book away from her, earning a frustrated huff from the Head Girl as she finally looked up. "Ron's into blokes, alright? We get it. But we were thinking, who is it that Ron spends all of his time with… always has done?"

"Are you suggesting Dean, that a gay man can't be close with another man without it being sexual?" Hermione asked carefully, doing an admirable job at keeping her expression neutral.

Dean just rolled his eyes. "Of course not. I'm just saying…"

"They looked…" Neville paused for a moment, struggling to find the right word. "They just looked... different."

"Completely besotted is what they looked like," Seamus supplied. "C'mon girls. We know you know something."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione replied primly, her eyes once again trained on her text book, and Ginny had to admire her resolve. She knew as well as anyone what a terrible liar Hermione was, but she'd clearly learned some tactics over the years.

Before any of the wizards could reply, Lavender and Parvati appeared, pulling up chairs of their own and Ginny groaned and began to clear away her parchment, knowing she had lost the homework battle for the night.

"Let me guess," she said tiredly, "you two want to discuss the latest rumors as well?"

"Rumor?" Lavender asked, "I thought we were just discussing theories here. No one's started any rumors yet…"

"And why would anyone be starting any rumors?" Hermione asked sharply.

"_No one_ is starting any rumors! For Godrick's sake can everyone just calm down?" Parvati looked at Hermione with affectionate exasperation. "Look Hermione, I completely understand why you're defensive of them, but no one at this table wants to cause any harm or issues where Harry and Ron are concerned, ok? We didn't sell Harry out under threat of death, so really, it's a bit insulting you think we'd sell him out for gossip's sake!"

Hermione had the decency to look chastened as she took a deep breath and closed her text book. Ginny knew then that they were doomed.

"Thank you Parvati," Neville nodded at her. "Hermione, Ginny… you don't have to tell us anything. But you should know, it seems pretty clear to everyone here that something is going on with Harry and Ron. You have to admit, they _did_ look..."

"Completely besotted?" Seamus offered again.

"I think it's adorable," Lavender added.

"Is Harry gay too?"

"Bi, maybe?"

"Is that why you guys broke up Ginny? Did you know?"

"How did…"

"Oi!" Ginny shouted, effectively cutting off the sudden onslaught. She looked helplessly up at Hermione who looked torn for a moment before finally taking a deep breath and casting _muffliato. _

"Fine," she said quietly, "but there will be ground rules for this conversation…"

* * *

Ron sat at the dining table, hands gripping his hair as he stared down at a piece of parchment in front of him. Nothing would have been particularly out of the ordinary about the scene, apart from Ron being up before Harry on a morning he wasn't due at the shop, but it _was_ highly unusual to have such a large flurry of owls at the breakfast table.

"Morning Ron... what's with all the mail?"

Ron jerked up, startled, and Harry felt a tug of nervousness at the look on Ron's face.

"Harry. Hi. Um. I…" Ron paused and took a deep breath, grounding himself.

Harry took the opportunity to make his way to the counter for some coffee, allowing Ron a moment to get his head together before he sat down calmly across from him at the table.

Ron had admitted two days ago that his increasing agitation and moodiness the last couple of weeks was to do with the approach of April 1st. George's birthday. _Fred's_ birthday. Harry was therefore doing his best to allow Ron the space to navigate this new wave of grief, but it wasn't like there was a manual on these things, so generally, he'd just been trying to ride whatever wave of emotion Ron was on in the moment.

"Everything alright?" he finally asked.

Ron sighed and handed one of the letters over to Harry. "Mate, I swear, I don't know how they figured it out. I thought it would be fine! I…"

"Calm down," Harry cut him off, "I don't even know what you're on about. I… oh."

Ron fidgeted nervously as Harry scanned through the letter, picking up a second one and scanning it as well before finally looking back up at Ron.

"I have to confess," Harry said at last, "I'm genuinely impressed with Neville, given I've always thought he was the only person in Gryffindor less observant than I am."

Ron just stared at Harry, eyes wide.

"Ron, it's ok. Really."

Ron let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, sagging into his chair with relief.

"Really? I know you didn't want to tell them Harry. I don't even know how they worked it out! I thought we acted just like we always do! And this," he held up one of the letters, "is hardly helpful in decoding what gave us away!"

Harry reached over for the letter, chuckling slightly. Harry agreed that he and Ron hadn't behaved in any way out of the ordinary with their friends yesterday, but it had technically been their first official date. Perhaps some of their excited energy had been apparent? Or, maybe they hadn't been that normal. Things had admittedly been… _enthusiastic_ since Ron's birthday and their progression beyond heated snogging. Who the bloody hell knew, really? The point was, Harry truly didn't mind if their friends knew.

"It's really fine Ron. It's the press I don't want finding out. I probably didn't need to make such a fuss to begin with really..."

Ron started to reply but was cut off when yet another owl swooped in. He sighed and untied the letter while Harry began doling out treats to the rest of the birds, hoping they'd then be on their way.

"I was wondering how long before this one showed up," Ron commented, "Hermione," he explained, "She says there was no point in lying, but she's…" Ron paused, his brow furrowing as he read on before letting out a loud snort. "Bloody hell! She's…" he paused again and dissolved into laughter, handing Harry the letter so he could read it for himself.

_Harry, Ron,_

_I'm sure the other owls have bombarded you by now. There really was no denying it once they'd sussed things out. I did at least cast _muffliato _so no one apart from our year could overhear, but really, they were already so convinced, and of course they all knew I would know and… Oh, I do hope you understand! _

_In any case, don't worry. They've all been completely decent about it (I'd expect nothing less!) and I've made them all sign a non disclosure agreement. It's not legally binding of course, but in the absence of any legal authority, I felt the enchantment I used for the DA sign up was sufficient. I'm fairly confident Marietta still uses heavy glamour charms every day to hide the pockmark scars, so I'd say it's deterrent enough. I did modify it slightly to spell 'Sell Out' rather than 'Sneak' as I thought it more appropriate in this case._

_Please, please, please write back as soon as you can. I can't bear the idea of you being cross with me over this!_

_All my love,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. Ginny is insisting that I add that she will bat bogey hex anyone into next week if they so much as look at either of you funny, and she's threatened to kick Dean of the quidditch team if he breathes one word about it to anyone. She's applied the same rule to Seamus which I said seemed a bit unfair, but given Seamus and Dean are so close she figures Dean getting thrown off the team is threat enough for both of them. _

Harry snickered and looked back up at Ron. "Bloody hell is right. I'm not convinced I'm the only one that would have done well in Slytherin. It must be said Ron… our ex-girlfriends are scary… and we're damned lucky to have them on our side."

Ron just shook his head, still baffled by the morning's events, and more than a little relieved that Harry wasn't upset about any of it.

"Right," Harry announced, "I'm going to make us some scrambled eggs. Then, we'll write a letter back to the Gryfindors to get them to pipe down, and a second letter to Hermione and Ginny letting them know they are wonderful and all that rot, and we can move on with our day, alright?"

Ron nodded, collecting the parchment strewn about the dining table as Harry got up to make them breakfast. After half an hour, a proper meal, and another cup of coffee, Ron had come out of his daze and was now twirling a quill absently as he watched Harry read through the various letters they'd received. He was still getting used to the idea, even now, that he was allowed to just look at his best mate. At his _boyfriend_.

Apart from the new physical universe they'd found themselves in recently, things were actually remarkably the same as far as their day to day was concerned, and Ron found it oddly comforting. There were certainly moments that were decidedly different than before, but generally speaking, their usual banter and routine were very much as they'd always been. He wasn't sure he could take it if every moment was full of big and grand emotions.

That said, he was still very much appreciating that he could now oggle Harry with no consequence. On some level, Ron knew that Harry found himself rather plain. He'd heard him describe himself as short and scrawny on more than one occasion, but Ron had never seen him that way. Harry didn't need to be a head taller than anyone in the room to get people's attention and he hadn't been scrawny since somewhere around 5th year. Ron could understand how the idea hadn't worn off on Harry though, as for most of his life none of his clothes actually fit. Even today, when none of his clothes were hand-me-downs from his overly large cousin, he tended to buy things a size or two up.

Regardless, Harry was _fit_. He was lean and strong. His generally unkempt appearance was part of the appeal, with his wild and often ridiculous hair, and his post war habit of only shaving every other week or so only adding to the casual bad-ass-ery that was Harry Potter. Not that Harry would ever describe himself as such. He remained oblivious to the general aura of power he projected.

"I've been meaning to ask you something actually," Harry said, pulling Ron out of his reverie as he sent the last owl on it's way. "You know how the gang were all talking about graduation, and their internships and apprenticeships in London?"

Ron nodded. He'd had a fleeting moment during that discussion where he'd felt maybe not returning to school had been a mistake. But the feeling had gone nearly as soon as it had come. George had needed him, and he had a place waiting for him at the Auror academy, a job he'd barely allowed himself to dream he could have. He knew he'd made the right choice.

"Well," Harry went on, "I was thinking of maybe offering to let them live here?"

Ron arched an eyebrow at Harry in confusion. "Is that a question?"

"Well, yeah," Harry shrugged. "It's your home too."

"I guess so, but it's your house Harry. If you want to rent rooms to our friends that's your call to make."

Harry frowned before taking a slow sip of his coffee. Ron may not have spent a single night in his own bed since he'd moved into Grimauld place, but he still _lived_ in a separate bedroom. It was nearly a comical farce at this point, but stubbornness was innate in both of them, and Harry wasn't going to say it if Ron wasn't.

"I wasn't really thinking about charging them. Part of the issue is that London is so expensive to begin with, and then trying to sort that out on an intern's stipend? I just figured this place is so big, might as well get some use out of it. You'd be ok with it then?"

"Sure. It sounds kind of fun actually. Like Hogwarts but without the adult supervision."

"It means sorting out those last two bedrooms…"

"Yeah well," Ron replied with a shrug. "We should have sorted them ages ago. I reckon I can handle a boggart now. At least I think I can…"

Ron wasn't sure if he could handle a boggart actually, but he thought it was probably poor form to say so when they were only a few months away from starting Auror training, and Harry still looked uncertain, so he wasn't sure what else he was supposed to say.

"So you think it'd be alright? Living with… well any of them really, but specifically with Hermione? Maybe Ginny?"

"That's up to them. Just ask them Harry, what can it hurt?"

Harry nodded and summoned a quill. "Help me draft this then…"

Before he could begin, yet another owl arrived, earning a huff from Ron as it swooped over his head before landing and dutifully holding its leg out.

"This isn't from Hogwarts, it'a from the shop..." he muttered as he unfurled the parchment.

Harry watched as Ron's expression morphed from disgruntled to something softer as he read the letter.

"That from George then?"

Ron only nodded in reply before putting the letter aside and leaning over to rest his forehead against the table.

"Ron…?"

"'M alright."

"You sure?"

Ron didn't reply right away, so Harry took the opportunity to draft the letter to their former classmates, now accustomed to Ron's need to pull himself back together from time to time. When Harry had finished, Ron lifted his head, eyes red rimmed but his voice steady.

"George decided what he's doing for his birthday. Will you… will you come?"

"Mmm dunno. I've a rather busy social calendar…"

Ron rolled his eyes with a small smirk as Harry stood to begin clearing away their dishes and began piling them into the sink. He jumped slightly as Ron's arms suddenly snaked around his waist from behind, but he quickly settled back into Ron's chest as the redhead pressed his forehead against the back of Harry's head and held tight.

They didn't say anything for several minutes, the dishes forgotten.

"Thank you," Ron mumbled.

"For?"

"For not freaking out about the letters. For wanting to offer this place up to help our friends even though I know you prefer your privacy. For not making me talk about what's going to be the world's most morbid birthday party. For… for just being the same you you've always been even though sometimes things are new and different and strange right now. For letting me ramble on like an absolute pillock after latching onto you like some deranged cat in the middle of the bloody kitchen…"

Harry snorted and turned around, keeping a hold on Ron's arms to maintain their proximity as he tried to get Ron to meet his eyes.

"I _really_ like the new and different and strange bits you know."

"Even when they include me turning into a clingy… uhg… whatever the fuck this just was?"

"Even whatever the fuck this just was, yes."

Ron let out a sigh and pulled Harry into a proper hug. "Remind me to thank Thelma for making you verbalize things. No points for eloquence but… it helps."

Harry barked out a laugh and pressed his forehead against Ron's chest to hide his blush. Telling Ron about his therapy had been a good decision, but it didn't mean it was always easy to address it directly.

"You're the king of eloquence now are you?" he muttered.

"Well there _is_ a song about me being king, if I'm not mistaken."

* * *

"Are you really sure I should be here?" Harry asked, for what must have been the 100th time.

Ron, for his part, just ignored him. He was tired of answering this question.

"Harry," Ginny sighed, "Shut up. You're part of this family and we want you here."

Harry wisely didn't respond and instead gave Ginny a weak smile. He was still a little surprised McGonagall had allowed Ginny to leave Hogwarts on a random Thursday night, but then again there were a lot of extenuating circumstances this year.

"About time!"

Harry looked up at Charlie's statement to find George, flanked by Angelina and Lee, making his way up the path to the small tattoo parlour.

Harry wasn't sure what he'd been expecting George to do for his birthday, but it certainly hadn't been this. He wasn't opposed to the idea of tattoos in the slightest, and thought it a fitting that Fred be commemorated in a fashion that walked the line of rebelliousness ever so slightly, but he was genuinely surprised that all 6 Weasley's were participating.

"Well seeing as it's _my_ birthday I figured you could stand to wait on me a mere 10 minutes," George replied. "Everyone else here then?"

"Yes," Percy answered before Charlie could reply with anything less straightforward.

"You picked probably the smallest shop in Diagon Alley though," Bill added. "We're going to have to take it in turns."

"Well he didn't think you were all actually going to participate," Lee informed Bill with a laugh.

"Are you kidding?" Ginny asked, "And miss the look on mum's face when she realizes _all _of us got tattoos? I can't think of a better salute to Fred."

"My thoughts exactly," George said with a grin. "C'mon then. There are three artists, so we'll just pair off. Once we're done, we can head back to my place for a drink and the big reveals."

"Wish me luck then," Ron muttered to Harry, who had begun to join Angelina and Lee as they conjured some chairs while they waited.

"You'll be fine. Can't be worse than splinching yourself, right?"

Ron rolled his eyes but Ginny grabbed him by the elbow and began to pull him towards the shop entrance before he could properly respond.

Harry snickered and took up his post with Angelina and Lee, the three of them spending the better part of two hours bantering back and forth. The only near serious moment occurred when Lee worked up the nerve to ask Harry what it was like trying to date a Weasley.

"Erm, what?"

"Oh come on mate, don't tell me it's easy."

Harry looked at Angelina for help, but she just shrugged at him and waved her hand in the air as if to say 'this is just Lee- go with it.' He really couldn't figure out what he and Ron were doing lately to give themselves away, but he found, once again, that he really didn't mind when it was just their friends.

"Why would it be difficult, exactly?" Harry asked, figuring there was no sense in denying anything.

Lee looked at Harry as though he'd lost his marbles.

"I dunno, maybe the hoard of older brothers?!" Lee pointed out with a small hint of exasperation. "Not that I'm scared of any of them, mind you, and they're probably nothing when stacked up against a group of death eaters, but I still wouldn't want to be on the other end of Bill's wand when it concerns the well being of his baby sister!"

Harry wrinkled his nose in confusion before realization dawned on him and he burst into laughter, earning a raised eyebrow from Angelina and a confused look from Lee.

"Sorry," Harry managed, still chuckling. "You mean Ginny," he stated.

"Er, yes? Who else…?"

Before Harry could respond, Ginny, Ron, George, and Percy filed out of the tattoo studio, chatting animatedly and effectively drawing attention away from Harry, though Lee kept shooting him suspicious glances.

"We'll show you back at the flat!" George was saying, "Bill and Charlie are just finishing up and we can head out."

Harry wasn't well versed in the art of wizarding tattoos, his only real exposure having been dark marks, but Ron had explained that normal wizarding tattoos were nothing like the death eaters' brands, the animation involved requiring complicated charm work rather than the dark magic involved with Voldemort's mark. Evidently, Ron had wanted a tattoo for some time, though he admitted having the first one be to honour his dead brother hadn't really been a consideration before. He'd been agonizing over his options for the past week.

"Go on then Gin, what'd you go with?" Bill asked once they'd settled in to George's flat and passed out a round of drinks.

Ginny grinned as she revealed the small beater's bat on her left shoulder, animated to swing and connect soundly with an oncoming bludger.

"Wicked!" Lee said with admiration as the Weasley's nodded their approval.

"Don't know if any of you know this," Ginny explained, "But Fred knew I used to sneak out and practice flying with your brooms. He never said anything outright, but I knew because he started leaving his broom on the lower shelf so that it'd be easier for me to get to, and he always made sure to include me whenever you lot were discussing game tactics."

Charlie nodded. "I noticed that too. Thought it was funny he always wanted to bring you in when quidditch was discussed. Joke was on us though, considering you've got scouts all over you at the minute!"

Ginny grinned and gestured to Ron. "You're up then."

Ron hesitated slightly, his cheeks pinking as he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. The room went quiet for a moment as the atmosphere shifted slightly in acknowledgement that, while this was fun, they were also here to commemorate their dead brother.

Ron stood with his arms still in his shirt, covering most of torso but revealing his chest and shoulders where a small spider skittered across his clavicle, over to his shoulder and down his bicep before making its way back again. Harry felt his breath hitch for more reasons than one.

"Ron? Is that…"

"It's a bit complicated," Ron tried to explain. "I… the first prank I remember you and Fred playing on me was turning that teddy bear into a spider and I hated you for it for years. My boggart was a spider for Merlin's sake! But… let's just say my boggart's not a spider anymore, and spiders sort of represent a whole lot of fears I've had to overcome. I just think… I think Fred would like it that a prank he played was now a big symbolic thing in my life. He'd like the grandeur of that..."

"Too right he would," George said, chuckling slightly. "As if our egos need the help."

Ron rolled his eyes, still blushing furiously as he pulled his shirt back on.

"Well since the mood has already significantly turned," Percy said with a sigh, rolling up his pant leg and pulling down his sock to reveal a sea urchin, quills growing and enlarging before shrinking down and starting over again.

The room fell silent for a moment, and Percy cleared his throat and pulled his sock back up.

"Perce…"

"I made him laugh," Percy cut Bill off. "I transfigured my boss into a sea urchin and I made Fred laugh and it may be the single greatest accomplishment of my life to date."

Bill nodded and placed a hand on Percy's shoulder, squeezing lightly.

George let out a low whistle and motioned for Lee to bring out the firewhiskey, dutifully ignoring that both Ron and Angelina had tears in their eyes.

"I'll go next," Charlie offered, "As mine is far less uh… charged, then Ron and Percy's." He began to unfasten his belt.

"Merlin! Where'd you put it?" Ron asked, alarmed.

Charlie smirked. "Well, when Fred and George were babies, Bill and I had a hard time working out which one was which. So, without mum knowing, we came up with a bit of a system."

Bill suddenly burst out laughing. "Did you do what I think you did?"

Charlie grinned and turned around, dropping his trousers to reveal a small 'F' on his left bum cheek.

The room erupted into laughter and wolf whistles as Charlie turned back around and gave a small bow. Bill was nearly crying with laughter, waving his arms to get the room's attention.

"Wait, wait! This gets better!" he called out. "We really did used to mark their bums when mum wasn't looking so we'd know who was who!"

And without further preamble, Bill turned around and pulled his own trousers down, revealing another small 'F.'

"You're _joking_!" Charlie howled with laughter. "We now have matching arse tattoos?!"

"I _told_ you we should discuss what we were getting!" Bill yelled, clutching at his side as he tried to breath through his laughter.

"No no! This is _way_ better!" Ginny replied.

It was several minutes and another round of firewhiskey before they managed to stop erupting into fits of giggles every 10 seconds. They'd all sprawled themselves across George's flat as they recovered, with Harry and Ron crammed into an overlarge armchair. Harry wasn't in Ron's lap exactly, but Lee caught his eye with a raised eyebrow and Harry hadn't been able to help himself. He draped his legs over Ron's lap, making himself more comfortable as he gave Lee a wink.

Finally, once she was mostly convinced they were containing themselves, Ginny gestured to George to find out what tattoo he had chosen.

George looked slightly uncertain all of a sudden, an oddity his siblings and friends ignored under the current circumstances.

"I kept it simple," he said, pulling his shirt over his head.

The atmosphere in the room changed once again. Angelina silently slipped her hand into George's and Percy rested a hand on his shoulder. Across George's chest, over his heart, Fred's name spelled itself out in replication of his signature, but the 'F' was replaced with a 'G.'

"I think Gred would approve," Lee said quietly.

The room murmured their agreement as Bill raised his glass, the others following suit.

"Happy birthday Feorge."

* * *

Reviews help :-)


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9- in which things continue to get physical, which is sometimes a little complicated.**

* * *

The thing about being best mates turned lovers was that you knew both everything and nothing about each other. This was Ron's latest theory anyway.

Ron knew the exact look in Harry's eyes before he decided he was going to do something dangerous. He knew the way he liked his eggs, and that he preferred a savoury breakfast to a sweet one, but a treacle tart trumped all food groups by a wide margin. He knew the difference between surly Harry and annoyed Harry and grumpy Harry. He knew that Harry made the bed every morning because there was a small part of him that still marveled that he had things like his very own bed in his very own room. He knew the way Harry breathed when he was calming himself down, and how he breathed when he was failing to calm down. He knew which of Harry's smiles were real, which one was for Ron's mother, which one was for Hagrid, which one was for the press, which one was for Hermione- he had a few different ones for Hermione. He knew when Harry needed him to be silent. He knew when Harry needed him to talk to distract him.

He knew _Harry._

Ron had thought he knew everything there was to know about Harry really, but he was wrong. So wrong.

He hadn't known that there was a spot on Harry's neck that sent him into an absolute frenzy if Ron sucked hard enough to leave a mark. He hadn't known that the look in Harry's eyes before he decided he was going to do something dangerous had a close cousin, a look that had yet to fail at reducing Ron to a whimpering puddle moments later. He hadn't known that Harry would be terrible at cuddling but would want the contact regardless, or that talking about their nightmares wouldn't be any less uncomfortable just because they'd brought each other off earlier in the night. He _had_ known that Harry was a hell of a lot stronger than he looked, but he hadn't known that if he teased Harry long enough, The smaller man could lock his thighs around Ron's hips and successfully roll them over and reverse their positions before Ron's brain could catch up.

It was bloody brilliant. All of it. Even when it was awkward, and maybe even sometimes _because_ it was awkward and they still managed to navigate it together. Even when Ron got scared that _Harry _was getting scared, it was still brilliant because Harry usually caught on and would feel the need to do something entirely physical to assuage Ron's fears.

It was bloody brilliant that time they'd ended up laughing themselves hoarse when Ron had gotten slightly tipsy and attempted to be romantic (they were _still _laughing about it).

It was bloody brilliant when Harry acted just as he always did when they were with the rest of the Weasleys, except for the tiny, subtle things that only Ron knew about, like Harry's hand on his thigh under the table, or how close together they sat while playing exploding snap with Ron's siblings. It was also especially brilliant last week when Harry dropped all pretense and curled up against Ron and nodded off on his shoulder in the middle of the sitting room, where his parents and siblings could see.

It was bloody brilliant when Harry informed him that he had 56 freckles on his left cheek. Harry hadn't been able to meet Ron's eyes when he'd told him, but Ron secretly hoped that by the time Harry had managed to pinpoint the number of freckles on his right cheek, he would.

It was bloody brilliant that he could know everything there was to know about Harry, only to discover, again and again, that there was still plenty to learn, and that Harry was letting him. That Harry _wanted_ him to know.

That Harry wanted _him_.

The other thing about being best mates turned lovers was that things escalated rather quickly. Maybe? Ron wasn't sure anymore. They'd been together barely... What was it now? 8 weeks? It had taken all of 3 before their clothes had no longer been part of the equation and since then they'd covered considerable ground with regards to the things you could do without your clothes on. They hadn't done… well, they hadn't done _everything_ you could do without your clothes, but Ron was pretty sure if they never went any further he'd still die happy. He figured this stage would have taken far longer with Hermione, or maybe it would have gone even quicker had he and Harry not both been naive, nervous virgins? Not that either of them would ever say so.

All this considered, he should have seen it coming when that look passed over Harry's face, that 'cousin to the jumping into danger' look- he still hadn't come up with a name for it. As it happened, he was too busy trying to find that spot on Harry's neck to notice, and then…

"Ron..."

"Mmm?"

"I want you…"

"You have me mate…" Ron chuckled gruffly, "Thought that was obvious considering I'm laying between your legs, half naked and ensuring you'll need to remember how to do a glamour if you want to go out in public tomorrow..."

"No…" Harry grunted, "I mean yes, but... _Fuck_ Ron... _More._"

Ron's eyes widened and he pushed himself up on his elbows, bracing himself above Harry so he could see him properly and search his face, his heart beating erratically and other parts of him pulsing furiously as he tried to focus on just what exactly Harry meant.

"What do you mean…"

"I mean," Harry interrupted, his voice low and gravely, the voice Ron was nearly positive no one but him had ever heard before, "that I want you to _have_ me."

Ron bit his lip and sealed his eyes shut, focusing every part of his attention on _not_ rutting against Harry in a frenzy and rendering the whole point moot in a matter of seconds. Harry wasn't helping, as he lifted his legs and hooked them around Ron's hips to emphasize the point.

It was still shocking sometimes, the things Harry would say and how he would say them. Sometimes, most of the time really, they were both slightly nervous if not slightly giddy teenagers. But other times… fuck, other times Ron felt like Harry stepped out of some trashy romance novel, suggestions of what or how they should try something coming out of his mouth so smoothly and confidently, that you'd never guess he hadn't done this a thousand times before. Ron wasn't even sure Harry knew he was doing it, it was just… Harry.

Admittedly, he had help. More than once, Ron had come home from the shop to find Harry perched somewhere, casually flicking through 'The Wizard's Guide to Wands,' as though it was indeed only about wandlore. One particular occasion, Harry had looked up at Ron when he entered the room and beckoned him over without so much as a hello before proceeding to remove any hope Ron had of coherently functioning for the rest of the evening. Three nights ago, Harry had marched into the sitting room where Ron had been writing a letter to Hermione, handed Ron the book and said, "Page 87" before walking out of the room and up the stairs towards his bedroom. Ron hadn't kept him waiting.

Yet for all that, it was usually Ron who actually took the lead. All he needed was Harry's permission, and the trust Harry had in Ron to understand the boundaries without having to explain them was erotic in a way Ron didn't fully understand.

"Just so I'm clear here…" Ron managed, finally remembering how words worked, his eyes still shut tightly and his voice higher than he would have liked. He wasn't sure he could give Harry the option of changing his mind if he actually looked at him right now. "You wa- _nnngh_… _fuck Harry_…"

"That. Yes," Harry agreed, chuckling slightly as he continued to grind up against Ron.

"If you keep that up, I won't be coherent long enough to even get you ready to be fucked…"

"I have faith in you."

"Well your faith is misplaced," Ron rasped, opening his eyes at last.

His breath caught as he looked at Harry, who was watching him with an intensity Ron thought he ought to be used to by now. Harry was one of the most intense people Ron had ever met, and having that intensity focused on him, in this particular context… _Merlin_.

"We don't have to," Harry said quietly, stilling his hips and reaching up to brush Ron's overlong fringe from his eyes, "But I want to, if you do…?"

"Bloody hell! Of course I _want _to! Just, ya know… I don't want to…umm…"

"You aren't going to hurt me."

Ron pinned Harry with a look and Harry rolled his eyes, breaking the intensity as he chuckled again. "Ok so you probably will. But it'll be fine. I trust you Ron."

Ron swallowed thickly at that. He didn't know why that statement made his knees go weak even though he wasn't standing up, nor did he particularly feel like he'd earned Harry's trust in this situation but here they were.

"Ok."

"Yeah?"

"Yes! _Fuck yes_! Just… just don't move for a second ok? Shit… I can't… I can't think…"

Harry laughed again, fully this time, and unhooked his legs from around Ron's waist.

"How bout if we just go back to what we were doing and then figure it out from there?"

"Right… just… yeah..."

Harry leaned forward and brought Ron into a kiss as his hands worked their way into Ron's hair.

"You don't need to think so much," he rumbled against Ron's ear, and just like that, the nervous energy faded, replaced instead by Harry's confidence in Ron to figure this out with him, together.

And it was bloody brilliant.

* * *

George was giving Ron that look again, and Ron was running out of ways to avoid his older brother. He didn't know how, but he was fairly certain that George _knew,_ the prat. Ron had been George's little brother his whole life, so he knew without a doubt that if George succeeded in questioning him with anything more complex than 'did you restock the trick quills,' Ron was going to somehow confirm beyond all doubt that he was no longer a virgin.

Part of him wanted the entire universe to know. He had shagged Harry Fucking Potter! Emphasis on the fucking!

There was a stronger part of him however that didn't want it shared. It was more of a conundrum than he'd ever expected. He didn't want it to not be theirs, as though George knowing would taint it somehow.

He knew that was ridiculous. George taking the piss couldn't change that what he and Harry had done last night was theirs and theirs alone, but he didn't think he wanted to have to defend that to George. Besides that, George would want details, likely graphic ones just to make Ron uncomfortable.

Ron wasn't embarrassed, per se. He knew from his brothers that first times were usually more awkward than anything else, and that certainly applied here, but there were other details in his case that made things a bit more… well, different. Besides, he didn't think it would be gentlemanly to top and tell, nor did he think any of his brothers had cried after their first times and he sure as hell wasn't going to reveal _that_. Not that he'd _actually_ cried. Tearing up didn't count, even if Harry said it was the same thing, which it wasn't. Besides, how would Harry know? Harry never cried.

"You nearly finished there Ron?"

Ron jumped, nearly dropping the inventory he was shelving and spun around to face George.

"What?"

George smirked and arched an eyebrow at Ron. "I asked if you were nearly finished. No need to stun me."

"Right, sorry. Just… umm, just startled me is all."

"Uh huh." George was straight up grinning now. "Fancy grabbing a pint when we're finished?" he asked smoothly.

Ron had gone back to shelving the trick wands but turned around to find George smiling innocently at him. No, no he did _not _want to go out for a pint. He wanted to get home to where Harry was. Harry his boyfriend, who he was now shagging. Actually, they were probably going to try and do it the other way round tonight. He'd managed not to think about it all day by sheer willpower, otherwise he never would have made it through the day in a fit state to be in front of customers. Now he had 10 minutes left of his work day, 5 if George would leave him alone to finish restocking, and should therefore be 15 minutes away from pulling Harry's clothes off, not 15 minutes away from having a pint with George!

"Somewhere else you'd rather be?" George prompted.

Damn him. _Damn_ him! George was baiting him. Ron had been dealing with George for 19 years and somehow he still hadn't figured out how to wriggle his way out of these situations.

"I… umm. No?"

George just continued to smile broadly at Ron, clearly enjoying every second of his youngest brother's discomfort.

"For fuck's sake," Ron sighed, resigning himself to the inevitable, "I'd rather go home."

"Oh? Any particular reason?"

"I have a feeling you know perfectly well what that reason is," Ron ground out, busying himself with the stock again.

"Do I?" George feigned ignorance, "I don't know what could possibly make you want to go home rather than get a pint with your grieving brother."

"Oh don't give me that bull…"

"You wound me Ronald! What could be more exciting at your boring old house than hanging out with me? Unless…"

Ron looked back at George expectantly but George just let the word hang there, his smile unwavering.

"For fuck's sake," Ron repeated, "how do you bloody _know_?" George just continued to grin at him. "You're going to make me say it aren't you? Fine. I want to go home so I can shag my boyfriend, that ok with you?!"

George's eyes widened for the briefest of moments, the only indicator of his surprise. "Shag him? Bloody hell Ron, I just assumed you were getting head!"

"Oh fuck off…"

"No, really! I mean, good for you and all but… damn."

Ron just stared at George with his brow furrowed as George laughed. One of these days he would remember that George's best trick was getting Ron to tell him more than he already knew.

"Are you done?" he sighed, waiting for George to get a grip.

"Oh come on! What do you have to be grumpy about? You're getting laid!"

"Yeah well maybe just once I'd like to not have the piss taken for something that makes me happy, ok?"

George's smile faltered as he looked at Ron. He was good at winding Ron up, but he'd been trying lately to recognize when it wasn't a good time, or he had gone too far. This however, was a brotherly rite of passage and he really didn't get why Ron was so upset over it.

"Hey, what's the issue? Didn't bollix it up that badly did you?"

"Shut up."

"Ooo, touch-y! What? Couldn't work out where Harry ought to…"

"_Strike 1!_" Ron roared suddenly.

George blinked, surprised at the outburst, as Ron smiled triumphantly.

"Strike...1...?"

"Yes," Ron confirmed. "You said I get 5 of them, and that you'd drop it immediately. That was the deal."

George just stood staring at Ron for a moment before he heaved a sigh and stretched his arms out in defeat.

"Fine. Silly use of a strike if you ask me, but a deal is a deal."

"It's not silly to me George, ok? This is… It's mine alright? We're not talking about some random fuck with someone I hardly know and fumbled around with. It's… it's private."

George just watched Ron for a moment before his expression softened. "You love him," he said simply.

Ron's jaw dropped, speechless, and George laughed.

"I probably should have realized. It was good then? I'm asking seriously this time."

Ron just continued to look at George as though he'd suddenly sprouted an extra head.

"Huh?"

George rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to tell you that I get it Ron. You love him. It's different. It's plenty nice when you're not in love with them too, but it's a different thing altogether."

"I didn't say I loved him…"

"You didn't have to."

"...Oh."

George just continued to smirk at him before something else occurred to Ron.

"Wait so… you've umm. _You've_ been in love...? _Are_ you in love?"

Ron felt slightly stupid for asking, but he desperately wanted to change the subject, and George suddenly went shifty, not meeting Ron's eyes. It was such an odd juxtaposition to the George that had been in front of him 2 minutes ago that Ron nearly laughed.

"I'm probably not who you want to be taking love advice from."

"I wasn't asking for any advice George…"

"Yeah, well... Let's just say that I know enough to realize that it's different when you're with someone you have strong feelings for. I have no idea if it's love. I'm maybe still a bit too… uhh…"

"Emotionally fucked up?" Ron suggested gently, earning a small smirk from George.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Don't see why that should stop you from being in love, you know? I'm pretty sure Harry or I could give you a run for your money in the emotionally fucked up category."

George snorted at that and finally looked back up at Ron. "I reckon you could, but you two seem to… I don't know actually. You seem to be coping better than, well, better than I expected if I'm being honest. Better than me anyway."

Ron tried to keep his expression neutral. George opening up about his grief was unprecedented, usually only coming out in bursts of anger that required one of their brothers extracting him from a pub before he got himself into trouble or taking a few hits from him themselves if necessary. Ron didn't really have a clue what to say; he didn't want to mess this up. It might be another six months before George even acknowledged he was struggling.

"I think coping may be a strong word for it. We… look don't repeat this, but we were sleeping in the same bed from the first night we moved into Grimmauld Place. Not like that!" he clarified, noting the confused expression on George's face. "Honest. We weren't… it wasn't ever… it was just easier. With the nightmares and… stuff."

George nodded slowly, clearly deciding whether or not Ron was telling the truth.

"I mean it George, it was never, you know, sexual or anything. It was… we were a mess. Still are sometimes. Some days we cope, others not so much. We…" Ron paused here, not sure he could explain this properly, or if George would just tease him if he did. "We talk about it George. It's pretty shit really. But it helps. I don't think… I don't think either of us would really be functioning very well if we didn't. I'd probably be a shell, and Harry… fuck. Harry would be explosive, literally. You know he still blows stuff up sometimes? Only when he's really and truly out of sorts, but still."

George stayed very quiet and for a moment Ron wasn't sure if his brother was just going to turn around and leave him to finish shelving, until finally:

"So you don't use any potions? Like to sleep or…"

"Sometimes," Ron replied honestly. "Harry hates the calming droughts but sometimes even he admits he needs one. We both stopped using dreamless sleep a while ago. It got umm…"

"Scary?"

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "I still dreamt sometimes even on that stuff and… shit."

"Yeah... I know."

"Yeah?"

George just nodded, not offering further details.

"You can talk to me about it you know," Ron said quietly.

"I'm not always sure how to," George admitted.

"Yeah, I know. I'd listen even if you weren't making any sense though."

George went silent again but he at least met Ron's eyes.

"I've never had to umm… never had to figure out how to talk to anyone else. I didn't even really have to actually talk to Fred…"

Ron stepped forward and put a hand on George's shoulder, not sure what else to do really.

"Are you umm… is the flat the best place for you? Alone?"

"I'm not usually alone actually,' George said quietly. "Lee practically lives on the sofa. And Angelina is over… often. Or was. That's gone a bit pear shaped at the moment. I just… I should offer to let Lee move in, but it would mean, ya know, giving him an actual bedroom…"

"Fred's room," Ron confirmed.

"Yeah."

"Have you been in there? To um, to clear it out?"

George shook his head. "Not really. I've been in there but I haven't really touched anything. I… sleep in there sometimes."

"I get it George. Not, you know, not everything you're going through, but all the weird shit that goes on in your head- I get that."

George nodded, his gaze focused intently on the shelves over Ron's shoulder for nearly a minute before speaking again.

"Would you… can you maybe come over this weekend? Help me clear out the room?"

"Of course. I'll stay Sunday after we close up. Mum'll survive one family dinner without us."

"Ok. That works. You… you mentioned calming draughts? Do those… I mean, where do you…"

"You have to go to a healer for them," Ron explained. "I can tell you which Healers aren't total idiots about it. They don't keep you from, ya know, waking up or dreaming or anything, but they help you pull yourself together after… well, when you wake up."

George nodded again, still not meeting Ron's eyes.

"George?"

"Yeah?"

"It's ok."

George finally looked at Ron, who kept his face carefully neutral. He could count on one hand the amount of times he'd seen George cry, and he therefore wasn't entirely sure what the warning signs were, but he was confident the expression on George's face at the moment was not one he had ever seen before.

"I said some really terrible things to Angelina," George said, "so I'm not sure how the fuck that makes anything 'ok'."

"You've said some pretty terrible things to me too George," Ron replied bluntly, not surprised in the slightest by the sudden cold edge to George's voice, "and no, that's not ok, but _we_ are ok. It's ok that you're not yourself, that you don't even know what that means right now. You just need to make some efforts to let people help, which you just did. You're not alone George."

George flinched at this, his eyes leaving Ron's again. Ron stood very still. He was out of his depth here but he had no intention of moving.

"I know I'm not Fred," Ron said quietly, stuffing down his alarm as George turned his head away abruptly with a sound Ron was only partly sure was a feeble attempt at covering up a sob, "but I can't change that he's gone George. None of us can. That doesn't mean you're alone though. I'm here."

Ron finally moved, wrapping a hand around George's bicep and pulling him towards him, again unsurprised when George fought him, thrashing without any real strength behind it as Ron wrapped his arms tightly around his brother in what was probably more of a chokehold than a hug.

"You don't have to fight it all the time George," Ron told him firmly, still needing to work to keep George in their weird embrace, and completely unabashed that he was crying even if George was still refusing to.

"I do," George ground out, "If…"

"If what? You think not fighting the pain of it is going to make you forget him? You need to feel it every once in awhile George or you're going to destroy yourself! Trust me, I would know!"

George finally stopped twisting against Ron, balling his fists at his sides as Ron held onto him, refusing to open his eyes.

"You don't understand," he choked, "you can't possibly know what I felt when I saw him lying there. I know you're his brother too, I _know_, but it's…"

"It's different George. I do get that. But you forget that for 20 minutes I thought the bloke we just established I'm in love with was dead, and I can tell you, having him then come back to life just to nearly be killed _again_ is a whole different kind of mind fuck! You forget that I had to witness Hermione being tortured. You don't even _know_ about the horcrux that almost sent me into very real insanity! You are not the only one confused as fuck about everything that happened a year ago George! It doesn't have to be the _same_ in order for me to understand. You. Are. _Not_. Alone."

At this, George abruptly dropped his tense stance and collapsed into Ron, nearly knocking the pair of them over as Ron struggled to keep him upright. George didn't dissolve into sobs, which Ron was half expecting, but instead took several deep breaths against Ron's chest.

"I'm so fucking tired Ron."

Ron had no idea what that meant, but he figured that wasn't really the point at the moment. He shifted in order to retrieve his wand from his pocket, careful not to release his hold on Goerge lest he try to bolt again. He quickly checked that the shop's wards were in place and then apparated the pair of them upstairs and settled onto Goerge's sofa, still not letting him go.

George pulled his legs up onto the sofa and leaned heavily against Ron, neither one of them moving for several long minutes.

"You can go Ron," he finally said. "I'm alright. Get back to Harry."

"Tea?" Ron asked, ignoring George's suggestion that Ron leave as he stood to put the kettle on.

George let out a small sigh and nodded shortly as Ron worked in silence to prepare two mugs of tea before summoning over some parchment and scrawling a quick note to Harry, as well as an order for takeaway before sending George's owl on her way.

He sat back down next to George as he handed him his tea.

"Tell me why you're tired George."

George didn't respond right away, and Ron didn't force it, blowing on his tea to cool it as he waited for his brother to sort out what words he wanted to use.

"I feel like I'm constantly holding everything in check. I have to show up for mum. I have to show up for Percy... for everyone really. And the shop. Fucking hell Ron. The shop is so much harder without him. It's hard anyway- we never expected it not to be, but it's exhausting without him. Like all the fun bits are… they hurt sometimes. Because it was supposed to be _ours_ not… just… it wasn't supposed to be like this. And at some point I'm going to have to come up with new product. I've never had to do that without him and I… I don't even know for sure that I can. I can't… I... fuck!"

"Easy George. Just one thing at a time, ok? Why do you feel like you have to hold everything in check? No offence, but I'm not sure getting into a pub brawl every fortnight actually counts as uh… holding things in check?"

George stared into his tea for a long time. "I don't want to be some violent arse hole," he said finally. "I just… anger is easier. I feel like I either have to be busy every second, or… or I have to be breaking something. Otherwise… _I'll_ break. Does that… I mean… I know I'm not making any sense…"

Ron sat very still, wondering if this had really been such a good idea. Despite the fact that actually, George was making plenty of sense, he felt completely out of his depth. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to convey this to George.

"You're making sense," he tried to assure George. "With Harry, it's isolation. He blames himself for everything, so he gets in his head a lot and thinks if he isolates himself he can't hurt anyone which is complete bollocks, but it makes sense. With you, it's anger. Still completely bollocks, but I get it."

George nodded curtly, still focusing more on his tea rather than looking at Ron.

"You should take a break George," Ron suggested. "I've still got plenty of time before I start the academy, and between me and Verity I think we can manage to ensure the place doesn't burn down."

George's lips twitched at this. "What would I even do with myself? Apart from brawl with every bartender in Diagon Alley, apparently"

Ron snickered as he rolled his eyes. "I dunno George. Go to Ibiza for the weekend with Lee, chase birds and get a sunburn or something. Just try to relax a bit. You'll see it won't actually kill you and maybe it'll help you not feel wound so tightly all the time."

George smiled. Not properly, but it was close enough, and he looked over at Ron at last.

"I'll think about it."

Ron raised an eyebrow and George snorted.

"Really! I mean it. I will."

"Fine," Ron conceded, and they lapsed back into silence for a few minutes.

"Sorry I'm shit at this," Ron offered.

George furrowed his brow at Ron from over his mug.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Assume you're useless," George said bluntly. "What's up with that?"

Ron just shrugged, having no desire to unpack that particular topic at the moment… or any moment really.

George just sighed, but seemed to be content to drop the subject as Ron levered himself off the sofa to fetch their takeaway from Goerge's owl before she could make a mess with it.

They ate in comfortable silence, not bothering to use the table. Ron wasn't sure whether it would be better to prompt George into talking again or if it was better to just let things play out. Merlin, had Bill nearly gone this spare when Ron was moping around Shell Cottage in silence? He'd never really had to think too much when he and Harry were working through whatever emotional hellfire was on for the day, but he admittedly had far better instincts where Harry was concerned, having dealt with the brunt of his emotional baggage since second year onwards.

"Ron…"

"Mmm?"

George took his time, opting to finish off his rice before turning back to Ron.

"Can we do the room now?"

Ron kept his face carefully neutral as he turned to face George. "'Course we can. Whatever you want."

George nodded once, the motion stiff, and he quickly hauled himself up off the couch, grabbing the takeaway containers and busying himself with tidying up the already tidy kitchen.

"George?"

George just shook his head, not looking up at Ron.

"Let's just… can we just get on with it? I can't… just, I'm done with the talking bit for now alright? I promise I'll work on it, really, but for right now can you just help me with this… please?"

Ron nodded, fighting the burning behind his eyes for all he was worth as he stood up from the sofa.

"Yeah alright," he managed to reply, albeit gruffly, as he made his way toward Fred's room.

"Ron?"

He turned, meeting George's eyes as his older brother sighed, for once allowing himself to look as worn as he felt.

"I… Thanks."

Ron just nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and then motioned for George to join him.

* * *

Harry stared at the ceiling above him, as he had done for the last 2 hours or so, breaking only to roll over with a frustrated huff every so often to stare at the shadows along the far wall instead.

There was nothing wrong with Ron's letter. Nothing at all. Every logical part of his brain knew that Ron not coming home after work had nothing to do with the fact they'd had sex for the first time last night. The odds that Ron was suddenly having some sort of internal crisis about their relationship were slim to none.

Yet he was lying awake turning over every possible disaster scenario in his head- alone.

He'd spent the day cleaning up one of the last of the bedrooms, having received the final headcount of former classmates that had taken him up on his offer of virtually non-existent rent. While all the serious bits of cleaning had been done once they'd moved in, the house still needed more than a little bit of polishing; it had needed redecorating. He hadn't really given it much thought, but Hermione had convinced him that the place was going to feel like an old deatheater's house no matter how clean it was, he had to do something about the overall aesthetics of the place and, being Hermione, she was right.

Harry didn't have the faintest idea how to decorate, but Hermione had found him some basic templates for him along with the charms he'd need to accomplish them, and she and Ginny had tackled the sitting and dining rooms for him themselves. The main floor could actually be considered quite home-y thanks to their efforts.

He had planned to work on the bedroom over the weekend, but he'd needed the distraction, as he'd spent the day in an otherwise lust-filled haze thinking about the previous night, and the night ahead.

He also hadn't wanted to spend too much time thinking about the ache in his chest he'd felt when he'd woken up that morning to an empty bed, Ron's customary note on the nightstand letting him know he'd left for work. He'd woken up in a sleepy, happy, stupor, only to have the ache envelope him when he reached over to find Ron's side of the bed already cold.

How bloody _sappy_ could he get?

He didn't know what to do with this feeling. It felt too out of control sometimes. It wasn't even a bad feeling really just… unfamiliar.

And now here he was, getting angrier by the minute that Ron hadn't even bothered to come home tonight. What could he possibly have needed to help George with that couldn't wait until tomorrow?

He knew vaguely that getting angry at Ron was just the safer route; that it was the emotion he was more comfortable dealing with. He could possibly even articulate this if he tried hard enough, thanks to the last several weeks of, admittedly intensive, therapy he'd been doing with Thelma.

But Harry liked safety, despite all the evidence to the contrary, despite knowing that it was probably more beneficial to him in the long run if he unpacked the root of what he was feeling rather than taking the safe route.

Huffing dramatically, Harry threw his duvet off and pulled himself out of bed, snatching his glasses off his night stand. There was no point lying here awake all night. He shuffled into his slippers and opened the door with another huff, only to find himself face to face with a wide eyed Ron.

"_Jeezus_!"

"_Stupefyyy_yyAh!..._fuck_! Harry!"

Ron pulled his wand up and back at the last second, only barely cutting the stunner off. They both stood unsteadily in the doorway, gasping slightly as they got over their initial shock.

"Sorry mate," Ron breathed, voice slightly unsteady as he pinched the bridge of his nose and scrunched his eyes up. "You scared the life out of me. What are you still doing up?"

Harry just looked at Ron, at the exhaustion in his face, at the exhaustion in his stance.

"Couldn't sleep," he said simply, still staring at Ron, unsure, wrong footed. This was nothing like the greeting he'd intended on all day. "Where were you?"

Ron blinked, finally looking at Harry, confusion clear in his face.

"What? You got my owl right? George needed help and I…"

"I got your owl," Harry cut him off, trying but admittedly failing to tamp down his anger. "Couldn't bloody well wait until tomorrow?"

Ron looked at Harry, completely bewildered by his terse reply.

"What?" he asked helplessly. He really didn't have the emotional fortitude required to sort out whatever the hell was going on here.

"Just forget it," Harry ground out, making to shove past Ron and out of his room, but Ron remained firmly planted in the doorway, still looking lost.

"I will not just forget it Harry. What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Just get out of my way."

"No."

"Move your arse Ron before I make you."

"Harry, again, what the _bloody_ hell?" He stepped forward, forcing Harry backwards and into the room, closing the door behind himself.

Harry scowled up at Ron, arms crossed over his chest, fuming.

"If you didn't want to be here tonight you could have just said so," he said finally. "You didn't have to make some sort of excuse."

Ron just continued to stare at Harry, desperately trying to work out what was going on, his own temper sparking dangerously close to the surface.

"Harry," he tried again, knowing he was not going to be able to do this much longer without blowing up, "I seriously have no idea what the fuck you're on about right now, so just spit it out already."

"Look," Harry snapped, "if the shop is suddenly this important to you, fine, whatever. But maybe you should sleep in your own room from now on."

Ron jerked back, hurt crowding out anger for a moment as he gaped at Harry.

"What? You… seriously?"

"Oh don't act like you're not relieved!"

"Why the fuck would I be relieved?! I… you know what, forget it! Fuck you Harry!"

"You _DID_! Apparently that was enough to get it out of your system!"

"WHAT?! What the actual fuck? WHAT ARE YOU EVENING _TALKING ABOUT_?!" Ron roared, Weasley temper now in full swing. "I just spent the entire night clearing out my dead brother's bedroom while trying to support my living brother's near mental breakdown, so for fuck's sake Harry, I really don't have the capacity to figure out what the hell this is right now, SO START BLOODY _EXPLAINING_!"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, taking in a deep breath in preparation to match Ron's volume, when realization crashed over him like a bucket of ice water. '_George needs my help…_' the letter had said. Not the shop… _George_.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

_SHIT_.

"Oh my god Ron," he breathed, dropping his arms from his tense stance and taking a cautious step towards Ron, who looked, if anything, even more confused. "Ron I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry! I'm such an idiot!"

"Harry," Ron said slowly, trying to catch up, "if you don't explain, Right. Bloody. _Now_…"

Harry backed up to the bed and sat down heavily on the edge, head in his hands.

"I'm an idiot Ron," he repeated. "I thought… I don't know what the hell I thought really, but I didn't realize you meant George, you know, _needed _you, needed you. I just… fuck. I'm so sorry. I panicked. I thought after last night that you… that you were avoiding me? Or… having some sort of freak out about it? I don't even know! I'm sorry! Please can we… god, can we just try this again? I'm the world's biggest arse…"

Ron continued to stare at Harry, still not entirely sure he knew what the hell had just happened, but he thought maybe he understood. He silently moved to sit next to Harry on the edge of the bed.

Harry finally looked up and wordlessly reached over to take Ron's hand into his own, not knowing how to properly explain the madness of the last 10 minutes.

"Is George ok?" He asked at last.

Ron nodded and let out a long sigh. "Yeah. He needs to talk about it more, but I think he's alright. Lee showed up around midnight actually, which is the only reason I came home at all. I didn't want him to be alone."

Harry nodded, his thumb grazing softly over Ron's knuckles. "And you? You ok?"

Ron met Harry's eyes. "That depends on whether or not my boyfriend wants to kick me out of his bed…"

Harry swallowed thickly and shook his head.

"God Ron… no. I want you here. I'm sorry…"

"So you've said," Ron replied. "It's ok Harry, I'm just not sure I really understand…"

"I just got in my head," Harry tried to explain. "I… I really hated that you weren't here when I woke up and I spent all day ridiculously pining for you to get home like a git, and then I got the letter and… just got all muddled up about it."

"I know a thing or two about getting things muddled up in your head," Ron said frankly.

Harry let out a small laugh and nudged Ron with his shoulder. Ron smirked and shoved Harry back. They kept it up until they were both snickering and wound up sprawled on their backs on the bed. They stayed that way for several minutes, the tension and anxiety between them draining away.

"If it helps," Ron said once the silence had become a comfortable one, "I spent the entire day half hard and had to escape to the stockroom more than once to pull myself together. All I thought about all day was getting back to you."

Ron was blushing furiously as he said this, but being the one usually in Harry's shoes in this kind of situation, he knew how important it was to hear the reassurance, however embarrassing.

Rather than reply, Harry nudged Ron again and coaxed him to situate himself properly in the bed. Ron didn't need much encouragement, exhausted as he was, and collapsed gratefully into his pillow as Harry curled up closely next to him.

"Forgive me?" Harry asked.

"Nothing to forgive mate," Ron replied, then added, "I'm not opening tomorrow, so I'll be right here when you wake up."

"Good," Harry said softly. "Nowhere else I'd rather you be."

* * *

**Please let me know what you think!**


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 - In which Ron can't keep his mind from wandering, and Harry ****has shift in perspective...**

* * *

Ron Weasley was a man possessed. How did normal people function in this state? He couldn't possibly understand how the universe could continue to move forward, that groceries needed buying or that jobs needed doing- how anything could possibly exist outside of shagging Harry Potter.

He genuinely thought he might be going mad. It was like the floodgates had been torn open and he was suddenly helpless against the tidal wave of frenzied hormones racing through him. He'd thought being 16 and closeted had been the height of hormonal roller coasters but apparently he was wrong. So very wrong.

All he could think about was Harry; his skin flushed and pressed up against Ron's, his eyes rolling back into his head when he came undone, his breathy, pleading voice against Ron's ear because _bloody hell_ was his best mate a chatterbox in bed.

The only thing keeping him believing in his sanity was that evidently, Harry felt the exact same way. Rather convenient.

They were getting good at it too, in Ron's opinion anyway, and Harry certainly didn't seem to be complaining.

A lot of people assumed Harry Potter was rather shy, mistaking his hatred of the limelight and generally melancholy demeanor when in public as an indication that he was soft spoken and meek. Those people seemed to forget that he was the same person who had publicly taunted the darkest wizard of the age mid duel, calling him by his muggle name before finishing him for good.

Sod shy; Harry was downright sassy. As a boyfriend, Ron was learning that this sassiness could manifest itself as an infuriating tease.

Which was how he'd found himself in his current predicament: in his childhood bedroom with Harry pressed up between himself and the door, shirts gone and trousers halfway on their way to joining them, all while his family were gathered downstairs awaiting news of the first Weasley grandbaby, on the anniversary of the battle of Hogwarts and Fred's death no less.

"Do you have to do that at the dining table?!" Ron gasped, his neck and collarbones currently having every millimeter mapped by Harry's lips and tongue. "Fucking hell Harry, I nearly broke Bill's shin when…" he cut off abruptly with a groan and Harry smirked up at him for a moment in silent acknowledgment of the evolution of their game before continuing his path along Ron's neck.

"...Want you," Harry breathed, "I want you all the bloody time. Can't help it… You're bloody gorgeous. Why the hell did we wait 8 years to start doing this? _How_ the hell did we wait 8 years to start doing this? You're..."

Ron brought his lips to Harry's, having done this enough times now to know that if he didn't shut him up now Harry would be gone before he'd had a chance to properly enjoy himself, and Ron very much wanted Harry to enjoy himself. Who ever would have guessed that Ron Weasley was the patient one?

Ron pressed his thumbs into Harry's hip bones, rubbing small circles in what had become his routine in calming Harry in nearly any context. When Harry was at last matching Ron's pace in the slow, sensual kiss, Ron broke away with a rumbled "checkmate," against Harry's ear, before smirking and dropping to his knees. Harry's head dropped back with a thump against the door, more than happy to concede.

Harry may have been a tease, but Ron was a strategist and knew his opponent well. Rather convenient.

Inconvenient however, were the lax rules at Hogwarts this year that allowed little sisters to come home for things like babies and death anniversaries.

"Ron! Harry! Gabrielle just floo'd an_GOOD MERLIN_!"

Ron would have shouted his head off at Ginny for barging into his bedroom unannounced, had said barging not knocked Harry forward, leaving Ron gagging rather violently.

"SHIT! Ron are you ok? For fucks's sake Ginny!"

"Well it was no picnic for me either Potter!" Ginny replied indignantly from the other side of the door that she'd quickly slammed closed. "Can you scourgify your eyes!?"

Harry was now kneeling next to Ron, who was lying on the floor with an arm thrown over his face as he steadied his breathing and tried not to die of embarrassment.

"You alright?"

Ron stayed silent for a moment before finally taking a deep breath. "I'm going to murder her. Mate, I nearly bit your prick off!"

Harry snorted, the hilarity of the whole thing washing over him as he struggled to contain his giggles.

"It's not funny Harry! I'm really rather fond of it!"

"Uhg! I can still hear you ya know!"

"You're just jealous you never got a piece of it!" Ron shot back at Ginny through the closed door.

"Oh for the love of Godrick…"

Harry couldn't contain it anymore, laughter over taking him as he sprawled out on the floor next to Ron. Ron sighed and finally removed his arm from over his eyes and looked at Harry, who was still kiss swollen and hadn't yet bothered to fasten his trousers back up. Ron started to snicker and before long both of them were a heaving pile of laughter.

"If you two are quite finished…?!" Ginny asked, amusement clear in her voice despite her indignation.

"Actually, no! You made sure that wasn't going to happen!" Harry replied, setting both himself and Ron off into fits of laughter all over again.

Ginny snorted, unable to maintain composure either. Truth be told, the whole house was a bit all over the map emotionally today and it felt good to laugh.

Ron and Harry at last emerged, looking slightly disheveled but otherwise decent. They both wore sheepish grins and Harry was definitely avoiding eye contact.

"Right," Ginny said sternly, forcing Harry to look at her and thinking silently that he really was family if the blush he was sporting was anything to go by, "I came up here to tell you that our new niece is here."

"It's a girl?" Ron asked, shocked, his embarrassment forgotten.

"Yep! I must've broke the curse," Ginny replied with a laugh. "We can all head over if we don't mind waiting outside while we take it in turns to go in and meet her. Gabrielle says it's actually really nice out by the beach at the minute and we should take advantage regardless so let's go!"

It took longer than it should have, typical of the entire Weasley clan gathering anywhere for any reason, but eventually they managed to assemble themselves at Shell Cottage. Molly had greeted them, in tears as expected, and swiftly ushered them outside to await their turns in pairs to meet the newest Weasley.

"Respect to Fleur for even letting us all show up today," Charlie observed as the siblings settled themselves on the back porch.

"More like respect to mum for being willing to leave the room for long enough to let the rest of us get a look in," George replied, pulling out a pack of cigarettes as he perched himself on the top step.

Ginny rolled her eyes and swiped the pack from him before he could get the box open.

"Wait till after you meet the baby," she told him in a voice far more mature than any of her brothers were comfortable with. "Besides, mum'll murder you if she sees."

George just shrugged, and Ron had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Only Ginny could get away with taking George's cigarettes off of him.

"You and Charlie can go first George."

"Bill!"

"Father William!"

Bill laughed as his siblings surrounded him, clapping him on the back and exchanging hugs all around until he finally shook them off and gestured for George and Charlie to follow him inside to meet baby Victoire.

"He doing ok?" Ginny asked once the door closed behind George.

Percy and Ron let out matching sighs, smiling slightly as they caught each other's eyes.

"He's doing alright Gin." Percy supplied. "He's actually been working through things, it's just… not always easy for him. Or any of us for that matter."

Ginny nodded, biting her lip as she looked up at Percy. "He and Angelina still together?"

"That part is a bit complicated," Ron replied. "They aren't calling themselves 'together' but they might as well be. Lee moved in which has been, uh…"

"Interesting?" Harry offered.

"Interesting how?"

"Say what you will about Lee Jordan," Percy sighed again, "I always thought he was a bit of a…" Percy paused, uncomfortable. He still had moments where he was afraid his past opinions would doom him.

"He _is_ a bit of a party boy," Ron stepped in, "I'm still not clear on where exactly he lived before George's actually, and I have no idea how he ever gets anywhere on time, chaotic mess that he is. _But_ he's one of the few people George will drop his walls for, and he can get away with things we can't since he's not related to him."

Ginny wrinkled her nose, slightly thrown off by the ease in which Percy and Ron could discuss their brother's emotional wellbeing, but grateful for it at the same time.

"He really is doing ok Gin. It's a good thing he's actually opening up a bit about it, even if it is in his slightly less than direct way."

She gave Percy a small smile. "I'm glad you guys are all here for him. I sometimes feel like going back to Hogwarts was…"

"Don't," Ron said firmly, and Ginny wisely listened to him.

"So what about you Percy," she redirected. "How are things going with this Audrey person?"

Percy's eyes widened as Harry and Ron began to snicker. They'd both met Audrey for the first time a couple weeks prior, and agreed that Percy had his hands full. She was whip sharp, and far bolder than either of them had expected, though in hindsight it shouldn't have come as a shock that anyone related to Jonathan would be vocal.

Percy was spared answering by the return of Charlie and George. Charlie was grinning from ear to ear, while George looked more or less dumbfounded.

"Next up!" he quipped lightly, before sticking his hand out to Ginny expectantly.

She rolled her eyes and dutifully handed George his cigarettes. He saluted her before marching off in the direction of the sea.

"Uhh…?"

Charlie snickered. "Bill's just told him he's godfather."

"What?" Harry, Ron, and Percy said nearly at the same time.

Charlie just grinned as Ginny hopped down from the banister she'd been perched on and began to follow George.

"You and Harry go on," Percy said to Ron, "I'm going to follow them too."

"Oh, I didn't expect…"

"Harry," Charlie placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, silencing him. "I know you least of anyone in this family, but even I know you are as much a Weasley as the rest of us, no matter who you might be dating. So for the love of Merlin, stop being surprised when we treat you like it."

Harry snapped his mouth shut. He'd now officially been given this speech by every one of the Weasley siblings. He didn't know how to explain to them that it wasn't just them, that he'd spent a decade not being wanted by his own family, never mind someone else's.

"C'mon Harry," Ron said gently, tilting his head at the door he was holding open.

Harry followed him without comment, thinking perhaps maybe at least Ron understood.

The pair trudged up the stairs, greeting Gabrielle and Mrs. Delacour as they went, before softly knocking and entering Bill and Fleur's room. Harry had never met a newborn before, and didn't have the slightest idea what to expect. He must have looked as out of place as felt, as Bill softly coached him in how to ensure he supported the baby's head as he held her, reassuring him that he was doing just fine.

She was the tiniest human Harry had ever seen, and he found himself instantly captivated. By the time he'd been able to meet Teddy, he'd been a few months old and a lot less fragile looking. He smiled softly, his heart swelling at the thought that he was _part_ of this family, that he was not only allowed to participate in this moment, but that he was _wanted_ here. He needed to take a deep breath to keep himself in check, a technique Thelma had been working with him on as he learned to navigate things he'd long thought he'd buried. He didn't want to run from this just because it was unfamiliar emotional territory.

He looked up, grinning, to find Ron staring at him with a funny look on his face.

"What?" he asked.

Ron blinked, his lips cracking into a lopsided grin as he shook his head.

"Nothing. Can I?"

Harry dutifully transitioned the tiny Victoire to Ron, who scooped her into his arms as though born to do it. Harry had no idea how he was such a natural, as it wasn't like he'd been old enough to cradle Ginny when she was born, but somehow all of the Weasley brothers seemed completely at ease around babies.

"Hi little Victoire," Ron said softly. "I'm your uncle Ron." he looked up at Bill, who had propped himself next to Fleur. "You're in so much trouble Bill. A part veela _daughter_?"

Bill and Fleur both laughed, the noise causing Victoire to begin to fuss and Ron instinctively began to rock her slightly, gently shushing her.

Harry was transfixed. He felt like his stomach had fallen somewhere in the vicinity of his knees and he could not fathom why.

"I hate to cut you short," Bill said, "but we need to wrap this up. You can come over as much as you want the next couple of weeks, but we need our house back for a bit. It's going to take me ages to get mum to leave."

"Need any help with that?" Ron offered as he handed the baby back over to Fleur.

"Nah. I've got it."

As Ron and Harry made their way downstairs, Harry felt like his brain was mush, but before he could analyze the situation he found himself nearly running into Ron, who had stopped abruptly at the bottom of the stairs.

"Kingsley?"

"I'm very sorry to interrupt," Kingsley said, his expression clearly indicating that he was indeed sorry as he looked apologetically to Arthur and Molly, who seemed unfazed that the Minister for Magic was in their son's sitting room on the day of their granddaughter's birth. "I need to speak with you both, and Ginny, for just a few moments. I would have waited, but…" he sighed, "...sometimes being Minister isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Everything alright Kingsley?" Harry asked.

"Absolutely. I'm here with good tidings. Typically these types of visits include a bit of a Ministry entourage, but I insisted that in this case, a more subdued approach would be preferred. I'm afraid Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom are being subjected to the full pomp and circumstance, but I trust Minerva to keep things palatable."

"Er…" Ron started to ask, but at that moment, Ginny entered, looking as confused as Harry and Ron.

"Ah, good. Have a seat Ginny, I won't keep you long."

Harry, Ron, and Ginny, squashed themselves onto the sofa, sharing bewildered glances as Kingsley stood, drew his wand, and a very official looking parchment appeared.

"Harry James Potter, Ronald Billius Weasley, Ginerva Molly Weasley, it is my honour to inform you that you are to be awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class."

* * *

"The Order of Merlin? As in… like, _actual _Merlin?"

"Why'd you have to tell him?" Ron groaned.

Percy looked incredulously at Ron. "Because I'm extremely proud of you?"

Jonathan flapped his hands in the middle of their small pub table to bring their attention back to him. "Hello? Can we go back to Merlin please? What are we talking about here? Help the poor muggle out!"

Harry snorted into his pint glass. Watching Ron and Percy navigate Jonathan's nearly endless demand for answers to just about everything had become one of his favourite pastimes lately. They'd convened at a muggle pub, a change to their usual gathering at Percy's flat, but Jonathan had insisted that they ought to go _out _for a change. What the difference was between sitting around a cramped pub table drinking beers, as opposed to sprawled across Percy's living room drinking beers, Harry couldn't have said.

"I dunno how you explain what an Order of Merlin is," Ron told Jonathan, wrinkling his nose as he pondered this realization.

"It's similar to what muggles call an Order of the British Empire," Percy explained. "I believe you have five... categories, you might call them? We have three, but the idea is the same."

Jonathan's eyes widened. "Really? What's the highest one then?"

Ron sighed and Harry snorted again as Percy puffed out his chest with pride and gestured to his brother and Harry.

"First class, obviously."

"Does this mean you're going to be Sirs!? Oh my god, am I friends with knights?!" Jonathan exclaimed, beaming at Ron and Harry.

"What?" Ron asked, the bewilderment in his tone a special brand he tended to reserve just for Jonathan. "No mate. I'm still just Ron Weasley."

"But he can add 'Order of Merlin, First Class' to the end of any of his letters if he wants," Oliver added, clearly teasing Ron slightly.

"Do you not have knights in the wizarding world then?" Jonathan asked, only slightly deterred by his friends' lack of knighthood.

"I mean, wizards and witches have been knighted, sure," Ron replied. "But not by us. That's your thing."

"So there _could_ have been wizards at the round table?"

Percy, Ron and Oliver laughed and Harry just shrugged at Jonathan. He didn't know what was funny either.

"Don't look at me" he said, "I failed my history of magic O.W.L."

Oliver shook his head, still chuckling. "Sorry mate. Just… being at the round table was sort of a step down from being, well… _Merlin_."

Jonathan tilted his head as he considered this. "I suppose that's a fair point. Never really thought about it before."

"Well we know thinking isn't your strong suit."

Their group turned at the arrival of the new voice and they chorused their greetings to Andrew as he dropped his bag and snagged a kiss from Oliver before finding a chair and situating himself at their already too crowded table.

"Hey babe. Didn't think you were going to make it?"

Andrew sighed dramatically and leaned heavily against Oliver.

"Don't make me study anymore. I can't take it. I had to get out."

Ron watched as Oliver snickered and wrapped an arm around Andrew's shoulders, feigning pity on his boyfriend, who was studying for healer entry exams. He was always slightly fascinated by the pair of them, as reconciling who he'd thought Oliver was with who he _actually_ was had proven an interesting experience (Harry had, for once, been more blunt than Ron and called it a mindfuck), but it was magnified dramatically here in a very public pub.

He wasn't jealous, which was an important distinction for him personally, given how much of his life he'd spent tangled up in navigating the ugliness jealousy causes. It was just that, while he really was fine with Harry being less than open about them publicly, he couldn't lie to himself and deny that he _wanted_ it. Part of it was that he wanted to be able to claim Harry publicly- to announce to the world that Harry was his. But he was realizing that it was the other way around. He wanted Harry to publicly claim _him_.

"Ron?"

Ron blinked. "What?"

"Bit space-y there mate? I asked if you wanted another round," Harry was grinning at him in amusement, their collective empty glasses in his hands as he waited for an answer.

Ron rolled his eyes but nodded to Harry to go on, watching until he disappeared into the crowd at the bar.

"Still not comfortable being out, huh?" Jonathan said, drawing Ron's attention back to the table.

Ron shrugged. "Not publicly. Pretty much everyone who knows us knows though, so it's no big deal."

"Mmhmmmm," Jonathan replied, looking at Ron with a raised eyebrow that dripped with skepticism.

"Oh what now?" Ron said irritably. "Give the guy a break. He's been through absolute hell and the media has never been his friend. I don't blame him in the slightest."

"Sure. But you're allowed to want things ya know?"

Ron blinked, wondering if muggles could be secret legellimens.

"Leave it Jonathan," Percy interjected. "They've got plenty going on and it's up to them how and when they tell people."

"Well speaking of plenty going on," Jonathan plowed on, unabashed at the light scolding, "Carry on with the life updates! Order of Merlin awards. Tattoos. What else is new? It's been ages since we've seen you."

Ron felt himself blush, despite the fact he knew Jonathan hadn't meant what was new in Ron's sex life, the newest thing in Ron's life happened to be sex, but there was no way in hell he was telling anyone at this table that.

"I mean," he tried to reply before Jonathan had a chance to pick up on anything amiss, "it's been the same old, same old really. Our friends are moving into the house with us in a couple of weeks, so that's new I guess. Hogwarts graduation, Order of Merlin fancy dinner thingy, then the following week the gang move in."

"That your Gryffindor friends then?" Andrew asked.

"Yeah, all three of our old dormates, plus Hermione and Ginny."

"You're letting your ex-girlfriends move in with you?" Jonathan asked, "Ooo cue the drama!"

Harry arrived at that moment, handing out drinks as he gave Jonathan a baffled look.

"Why would that be drama? They're practically family."

"Practically? Ginny _is_ family."

Harry lifted his glass to Ron and nodded, dutifully ignoring the expression of glee on Jonathan's face.

"Whatever you sa-ay," he sing-songed, picking up his gin and tonic and taking a theatrical sip.

"I hear your sister's getting a lot of attention actually," Oliver cut in.

Ron, Percy, and Harry all nodded enthusiastically.

"Loads!"

"It's really promising."

Andrew snorted at the scandalized look on Jonathan's face.

"They're talking about quidditch Jonathan," he explained. "Ginny's being scouted."

Jonathan let out a groan and dropped his head to the table. "I should have known. How is it that I'm at a table of gay men that somehow always wind up discussing sports?!"

"Percy's straight," Ron pointed out.

"And the least quidditch obsessed one here!"

Percy sat up straighter on his stool and let out an exaggerated huff. "I'll have you know that plenty of straight men are completely pants at sports. I find your stereotyping quite offensive. "

The six of them erupted into snickers and Ron thought, not for the first time, that he owed Percy big time for introducing him to these men.

* * *

Harry's knee bounced incessantly. He would have thought that after all this time, being famous would have softened his nerves a bit when it came to public attention, but it hadn't.

The ceremony wouldn't even be focused on him in any specific way; he'd insisted on it. The DA at Hogwarts that awful year would receive the Order of Merlin, second class, then he, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Neville would receive the Order of Merlin, first class, all equal. No special accolades for any one individual. Though if he had his way, Harry would be in the audience while his friends got their awards.

It wasn't the ceremony itself he was worried about; he trusted Kingsley to uphold his end of the bargain, but the press was the press. He was certain his face would be front and center tomorrow morning, ignoring the accolades his friends deserved in equal measure.

Harry stilled as Ron's hand settled firmly on his knee, giving him a reassuring squeeze. Harry looked up at him and his stomach did that strange flip flop thing. He kept waiting to get used to it, the strange wooshing that happened in his lungs when Ron _looked_ at him, but he recently determined he never would, and that maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

Tonight in particular was a lost cause. Ron was bloody gorgeous. He'd bought himself a set of dress robes, all on his own, as a point of pride, and had them tailored. Robes off the rack didn't even fit him properly in the shoulders these days, never mind the length. He'd also finally consented to let Jonathan cut his hair. It was still quite long and a bit unruly on top, but he'd shortened and tapered the sides, taking away the last of the residual boyhood from Ron's appearance and leaving him with a trendy sophistication that Ron wore shockingly well.

And his earring was fully visible all the time. Damn that earring.

Their auror drills were paying off big time as well, and Harry wasn't the only person to notice. Practically every woman in the building had turned their heads when they walked in. Admittedly, they may have also been looking at Harry, who wasn't bad looking himself, according to some, and was also… well, stupidly famous.

Still, Harry hadn't minded really until he realized that more than one _man_ had turned his head as well. He vaguely wondered if he would have even noticed that a year ago. He somehow doubted it. He had struggled not to do something publicly possessive and instead contented himself with the fact that only he knew that Ron had needed to put the robes on twice that evening before they'd made it out the door.

He stilled his knee, Ron giving it a final squeeze before moving his hand away. Kingsley was talking about the DA now, the group of brave students that had stood up to the Carrows, found ways to fight back, to resist from within. Students that had taken beatings and worse to protect the younger kids. Students that had been beacons of hope in an otherwise terrifying situation.

Then it was their turn, the five 'leaders' that had somehow earned first class status, though Harry had never really understood the details around what the classes meant really. Neville and Ginny, the cornerstones of the resistance movement. Then himself, with Ron and Hermione, cornerstones of Voldemort's destruction.

They stood, all 5 of them, moving forward as one to be presented with their awards, all of them threading their hands together as once again, Harry was reminded that he really, truly, didn't deserve Hermione. She had suggested the order they sat in: Neville, Ginny, Ron, Harry, Hermione. She had come up with some convoluted symbolism that no one had argued with, but in reality it allowed Harry to hold Ron's hand publicly, and he knew that's why she had done it. Because for the 1000th time, he didn't deserve her.

It was more emotional than he'd expected, receiving the award. He had expected to be annoyed by it all, truth be told, but as the honour was shared with the people who had really shown up for the fight, most of them barely of age, it was powerful in a way he hadn't expected.

It was also blessedly straight forward, and the show was over, so to speak. The party was in full swing, and damnit, it was _fun_.

He smiled as he watched Hermione twirl around the dance floor with Seamus and Neville, both of whom kept trading her off until he could tell she was dizzy enough to fall over. As the song changed, the three of them made their way over to Ron and Harry, who were seated as unobtrusively as they could be at the head table, reserved for the award recipients.

"You two need to get out there!" Seamus crowed, cheeks pink with champagne.

"Not bloody likely," Harry responded, jerking his head in the direction of the press junket.

Seamus rolled his eyes "You don't have to dance _together_. You should do though. Honestly, You're allowed to have fun."

Harry sighed, having had this argument with Seamus more than once. He was about to retort when Neville perked up at the music change.

"No way! This is… this is _old_ stuff."

"Old _folk_ stuff," Seamus clarified, lighting up all over again. "Come on Ron, you _have_ to!"

Hermione and Harry shared a knowing glance of confusion. Clearly this was something you had to be raised in a magical family to understand…

Ron just smirked and shook his head. "Go on gents- show the muggle borns how it's done."

Seamus and Neville took off, dragging Hermione along with them despite her protests. The dance, it turned out, was an old wizarding folk dance, Irish, Harry guessed, if Seamus's enthusiasm was anything to go by. The steps were fairly simple and repetitive, with the partners trading off and both genders performing steps together before taking on the next partner in line.

"Do you know this?" Harry asked, realizing Ron was grinning as he watched.

"Yeah," he shrugged, trying to be casual about it. "We do it at family weddings all the time; can't go to a Wizard wedding without doing this one I don't think."

Harry watched his boyfriend for a moment as he watched the dancers, a small smile on his lips as he tapped his hand lightly in time to the music, laughing as George joined the fray with dramatic flair. With a lurch somewhere behind his navel, Harry realized that Ron _wanted_ to participate. Ron. The most surly attendee of the Yule ball, wanted to dance. He thought back to Bill and Fleur's wedding, the only one he'd ever been to, wizarding or otherwise, and remembered the Weasley brothers all dancing together, before everything had gone to shit. They'd been a laughing mess, the lot of them, but it had been clear they knew the steps, that this was part of some family or wizarding culture thing.

Before he could contemplate further, Ginny was upon them, and Harry knew resistance was futile. Less than 30 seconds into the song, she had coerced half of Gryffindor and the DA onto the dance floor, the band repeating phrases to drag out the number. Before Harry even knew what was happening, he was joining them, the steps easy to pick up with Ginny's encouragement (she was apparently a rather fantastic dancer) and each new partner helping him gain confidence. His breath caught as Ron pulled him away, spinning them around as they took position for the next partner, over and over.

He danced with Ginny, then Hermione, then Padma, and then Lavender, laughing as she took the lead from him so that he was the one twirling. Then he was back to Ron, who spun him in the now familiar steps as he awaited Angelina. He couldn't stop smiling, catching Ron's eye every time they turned towards each other.

The dance finally ended, the crowd and dancers both applauding as couples wound their way back to their partners through the dance floor, still laughing and smiling as the music changed again, a slower pace. Ron was giving his sister a final twirl, laughing as she spun off and into Lee's arms, who took full advantage of the change in music and pulled her to him.

Harry stared, unmoving, as the dancers paired off around him, as Ron's bright smile overpowered his eye roll at Lee's antics. Ron pulled a hand through his hair, slightly sweaty from exertion. The earring flashed, and he caught Harry's eye, giving him that lopsided grin Harry was fairly certain was reserved only for him.

He moved with intent, closing the gap between them and standing much too close for two mates at a party. Ron's eyebrows rose a fraction, but he remained otherwise still as Harry held out his hand.

"Well?" Harry said simply, "Are you going to dance with me or not?"

Ron hesitated only a moment, seeking the permission in Harry's eyes and finding it almost immediately. He took Harry's hand and pulled him flush against himself, slightly unsure how to do this if Harry didn't want him to lead. He dipped his head to Harry's ear.

"You're sure?" he murmured,

"Positive," Harry confirmed, and solved Ron's next dilemma by taking the follower's position in Ron's arms.

Ron grinned, not even caring that he was fumbling half the steps, he was at least better than Harry, who admittedly was trying to do them all backwards. They laughed at their inexpert moves, but kept each other held tightly, missing Seamus elbowing Dean in the ribs by the punch bowl, missing Ginny craning her neck to see around Lee's shoulders, missing George stopping his dance with Angelina altogether to watch properly, and not caring one bit at the sudden uptick in camera flashes.

As the song ended, Ron pulled Harry tightly to him, stopping himself from leaning in. Harry solved this dilemma as well, and tilted his face up to Ron's.

"Are you a Gryffindor or not?"

"Is that a challenge?" Ron asked, working extra hard to keep the pounding in his ears to a minimum as his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest.

"Absolutely Weasley."

And Ron closed the gap, kissing Harry soundly before pulling away with that lopsided grin again.

The cheers that erupted from the Gryffindors and DA members around them nearly blocked out the onslaught of bulb flashes and murmurs throughout the press junket.

_Let them talk. Let them print whatever the bloody hell they want_, Harry thought, _this is worth it._

The music changed again, bringing them back to earth as their friends crowded around them, forming a less than subtle wall between the couple and the cameras as they lined up for another folk dance. Harry grinned up at Ron, he couldn't help it. Ron pulled Harry towards himself and once again dipped his head to Harry's ear.

"I can't wait to get you home."

Harry met Ron's eyes, gave him a quick wink, and allowed himself to be dragged into the line up, laughing as Ginny managed to coerce her parents onto the floor as the dance picked up.

Harry could feel Ron's eyes on him the rest of the night, lighting him up from the inside, his blood burning underneath his skin. They shared multiple dances, every touch like lightning, and even when they were split up for the folk dances, or the handful of dances he took with Ginny, or Hermione, he could sense it, the scorching look from Ron.

They barely made it past the foyer once they got back to Grimmauld place.

* * *

**Please review!**


	12. Chapter 11

**Thanks to those of you sticking with this, and especially to those of you who have reviewed. This chapter gave me loads of trouble, but hopefully it shaped up ok. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - In which some people are idiots, but they aren't the ones who count.**

* * *

Harry woke the morning after the Order of Merlin ceremony to Ron kissing him lazily along his neck, his freckled chest pressed flush against Harry's shoulder blades as Ron dragged his fingers gently along Harry's ribs, down his hip and thigh and back up again. He hummed appreciatively, stretching his neck so Ron could have better access, eyes still closed.

"M'rning," Ron's voice rumbled against his shoulder.

"Mmm," Harry replied, pressing himself more firmly against Ron.

Ron groaned, his lightly trailing fingers growing slightly more insistent.

"...Last night…" Ron breathed against Harry's ear, "..._Merlin_ Harry…"

"Mmm," Harry affirmed, opening his eyes at last. "...for me too."

He turned to kiss Ron properly when the ward chimes rang through the air, causing them both to bolt upright in alarm.

"What time is it?" Harry asked, torn between being annoyed at the interruption and confusion over who would be over early on a Sunday morning.

"Not bloody late enough to be calling, nevermind entering," Ron growled, clearly not torn at all about how he felt about being interrupted.

Harry was already up, shuffling into the pajamas he hadn't bothered with the night before.

"Ron? Harry?"

"...Percy?" Ron muttered, incredulous. "Of all the…"

"We'll be down in a minute!" Harry called as he cracked the door open slightly. He turned back to Ron and snickered at his put out expression, "C'mon Ron." He tossed Ron his crumpled dress slacks as it was all he had available in the room.

Still grumbling, Ron dressed hastily and joined Harry as they trudged down the stairs to the kitchen, bewildered as they found Percy and…

'"Oliver? What…"

"Sorry for the intrusion," Percy cut him off, his tone clipped, "We needed to get here before… ah, thanks Ollie…"

Harry and Ron just looked at each other, perplexed. Percy and Oliver were both flitting along the perimeter of the kitchen, their wands out with occasional incantations muttered between them.

"The wards stop it from going anywhere else in the house," Percy said to Oliver, "but best check the front door anyway."

"Will one of you please explain what the bloody hell you're doing here at… NINE THIRTY in the morning? Shit, it's way later than I thought. I need to get ready for work…"

"You aren't going in today," Percy replied, flourishing his wand in time with Oliver over the hearth. "That should do it."

"_Again_, what the bloody…"

"You made the front page," Oliver responded, turning to face them at last, apparently finished with his spell work.

Harry and Ron just stared at him, bewildered.

"Um," Harry said at last, "That's not exactly… I mean, I sort of assumed we would…?"

Percy let out a long sigh and nodded to Oliver, who produced a copy of the Daily Prophet and dropped it on the dining table in front of Harry and Ron. Harry had to suppress a snicker. It was about bloody time he shared the cover with someone, and even better, he was sharing it rather intimately with the best looking bloke in the building.

Ron let out a low whistle as he watched his own image pull Harry's towards himself and kiss him heatedly. He hadn't remembered grabbing Harry's arse while he'd done it but… there it was.

"As soon as you two let loose last night, we knew we'd have to scramble this morning," Oliver was saying, "I had _weeks_ to prep everything, not to mention the Puddlemere press team…"

"What are you talking about?!" Ron roared, apparently at his breaking point. "Will one of you please explain what the bloody hell is actually going on?"

Before anyone could respond, the fireplace roared to life and Lee Jordan's head appeared.

"Percy? We need you at the shop. He's going to get himself arrested…"

Percy took a steadying breath, taking his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Go," Oliver told him "We're good here."

"Thanks. I'll be there in a sec Lee. Call Angelina next please?"

Before Ron could lose his mind, Percy had stepped back into the floo, shouted "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," and disappeared.

"Sit," Oliver instructed, summoning mugs to the table. "Do you drink tea or coffee in the mornings?"

"Coffee," Harry responded, sitting down slowly, as instructed, his brow furrowed.

Ron was still standing, his body tense. Harry reached up and took his hand, tugging gently for him to sit down as well.

Oliver worked silently, sliding the mugs of coffee over to them before taking a seat himself.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, "We didn't mean to bombard you. I assumed you'd know what you were in for, but it would appear not."

Harry and Ron just glanced from one another and back to Oliver.

"Look, you've just made yourselves the biggest piece of gossip news Wizarding Britain has had in decades. It was bound to happen eventually and ninety nine percent of the reaction will be harmless, but you have to take certain precautions and…"

"Wait… what are you on about Oliver?" Harry asked, genuinely confused. "We snogged at a ministry function. The 'Chosen One' is a homo... whoopie! What's the panic about? I've had my name splashed across headlines for years for shit _way_ more serious than this, it's nothing new."

Oliver winced. "I know that mate."

"But?" Ron prompted, his hand resting firmly on Harry's knee beneath the table.

"But you haven't ever done anything socially questionable before."

"Socially… questionable..." Harry's face became stoney even as Ron's grip on his knee tightened.

"Look, it will blow over in a couple weeks. It did for me. You two are just more high profile… _a lot_ more high profile. In the meantime we need to make sure all your mail is scanned for safety, and…"

"Scanned for safety?" Ron cut in, surprised. "Is that…"

"I got a few cursed Howlers," Oliver supplied, "Trust me, it's worth the hassle of the screenings. You'll get encouragement too, a lot of it actually, but there are still some people out there that will feel the need to tell you you're a disgrace to the planet. It's best to just let the charms sort those ones out too."

Harry's jaw was set, his expression cloudy. Ron didn't need to look at him to sense the danger as the repercussions categorized themselves neatly in Harry's head.

"We need to get Hermione's parents' house secured. And The Burrow…"

"Harry…"

"Is Ginny at home? The press will target her quickly so we need her to stay put…"

"...Harry…"

" and Hermione's parents are muggles. Someone needs to extend the wards to include their mail…"

"_Harry!_"

Harry turned to look at Ron, who was now gripping Harry by the shoulder firmly.

"Harry," he repeated, still firm, but more gently this time. "It's just ignorant people. It's not Voldemort, ok? Like Oliver said, it will blow over in a couple weeks."

"Arthur went over to the Granger's this morning," Oliver said uncertainly, his eyes flicking back and forth between Harry and Ron. "He's sorting their wards out and The Burrow is fine. Ginny can lay low there for a bit…" he trailed off as Harry gave a curt nod.

They all jumped as the fireplace roared to life, erupting brighter than usual as a tangle of limbs spun into the room amidst a stream of swearing.

"George! If you don't. Hold. _STILL...!"_

"NO ONE CALLS MY BROTHER THAT EXCEPT ME! _NO ONE_!"

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE WOULD SOMEONE PLEASE GRAB HIM!"

Oliver moved quickly, Ron (and admittedly Harry as well) too stunned by _Percy_ swearing to react at first.

"THEY'VE NO RIGHT!" George roared, struggling against Percy until Oliver managed to overcome him and pull him into a partial headlock. "NO RIGHT TO COME INTO _MY _SHOP, INSULTING _MY_ FAMILY!"

"_GEORGE!_" Ron bellowed, finally catching up to the situation and rising to face off with the still struggling George. "_OI_! GET A GRIP!"

"You weren't there," George growled, but he at least stopped struggling against Oliver, "You don't know what they were saying…"

"I have some pretty good guesses," Ron said evenly. "And it doesn't mean shite George. What'd they call me? A faggot shirt lifter? So I'm a faggot. Big fucking deal. Pull it together, alright?"

George went silent, but remained tense enough that Oliver kept a firm grip on him. Ron held his gaze, willing him to calm down.

"This isn't about what they're calling me George, and you know it. So don't you dare go looking for a fight on my account, got it?"

George looked away, grinding his teeth. There was a long silence while George mastered himself, Oliver's grip slowly unwinding until at last George sat down heavily at the table.

"Is the shop alright?" Ron asked, once he was convinced George had calmed down.

George nodded. "Nothing a little _scourgify_ can't fix. Might need to suspend owl service for a couple weeks though. Not sure some of the product will make it through the screening charms as 'safe' if we're being honest."

Ron grimaced but said nothing as he nodded.

"This it then?" George asked, reaching for The Daily Prophet. He let out a whistle, just as Ron had. "Really went for it there, didn't you? Good on you."

Ron couldn't help his smug grin, only to have it wiped from his face when he turned to look at Harry. Harry was _not_ smiling.

"Harry…?"

"Thanks for your help Oliver, Percy. I didn't even know you could spell the mail from getting in. You'll have to teach me. If you'll excuse me…"

Harry rose mechanically from the table, his movements stiff as he exited the kitchen.

"Shit," Ron muttered. He sat quietly for a moment before pounding his fist into the table abruptly, making his brothers and Oliver jump. "_Shit."_ he repeated. "I need you to tell me right now if there is anything else I need to know about this. Is it just ordinary, homophobic, hate mail garbage? Or is it somehow worse than that?"

"Mostly it's just that Ron, and genuinely, not a lot of it. You might want to lay low for a few weeks as the sight of you in public, especially together, is going to get the press all riled up again, but that's just because it's you two," Oliver replied. "It may drag on a little longer than it did for me, but it's just annoying more than anything else. They may harass Ginny and Hermione a bit as well, but those two can hold their own against the press just fine."

"The only reason we had to act so fast this morning was the timing," Percy added. "Had we known you were going to go public last night, we could have set everything up ahead of time. That's what we did for Oliver."

"Well it wasn't planned," Ron bit out angrily. "And it was actually pretty fucking perfect until this morning." He signed and scrubbed his face with his hands. "I need to go talk to Harry..."

"Of course. Do you mind if George and I hang here for a bit? Oliver needs to get to work but…"

"Yeah," Ron waved him off. "Just stay downstairs. And if anything explodes just… just leave it."

Percy gave Ron a rather startled look but George shoo'd Ron away.

"I'll explain, go sort out your lover boy."

Ron took the stairs slowly, needing to get himself under control before he attempted to do the same for Harry. When he finally entered the room, Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the window with his back to the door.

"Harry?"

Harry didn't move, but Ron heard his sigh and gingerly took a seat next to him. They sat in silence for awhile, Ron unsure what to say, and Harry needing the time to get his thoughts together in a more orderly fashion.

"I thought it was too perfect. Should have known really." Harry said at last. Ron stayed silent at this, not trusting himself to speak. "I really thought… doesn't matter what I thought I guess. I just… it felt so… _good. _So right. And now…"

"And now what?" Ron demanded, failing to hide the hurt in his voice. "Why does it have to be different now? Just because a few stupid people are still living in the dark ages?"

Harry finally turned to look at Ron properly and winced. Ron just looked at him, obviously hurt despite the flashes of anger in his eyes.

"Harry," Ron began, but quickly closed his mouth as he questioned whether he could proceed without shouting. He didn't want to row right now, not after what had been one of the best evenings of his life to date. Not after he'd woken up this morning in a haze of bliss.

"'M sorry," Harry said quietly. "It's not that I don't think it was worth it."

"You've a funny way of showing it," Ron bit out.

Harry flinched, but he reached over and took Ron's hand in his own, taking a deep breath.

"I know. I'm sorry. I got caught up thinking you could be at risk. That you could get hurt because of me… again. I'm sorry, I know that's… that it's old news really, and not the same kind of threat it used to be. But it's always in the back of my mind and I'm just so… _angry._ I'm angry that anyone would want to try and ruin this for us. I…"

"No one's at risk here Harry," Ron interrupted. "Worst case scenario is some public humiliation, which I'm plenty familiar with and frankly, I am never going to be embarrassed about being with you. I mean, did you _see_ us? I was snogging the fittest bloke there! We looked damn good…"

Harry snickered, looking up at Ron, grateful that somehow, Ron could still manage to break the tension.

"It's really not that serious, Harry. Oliver said we'd even get lots of _nice _mail."

Harry nodded. "I just panicked. I'm sorry."

"Don't let it ruin a great night, ok? It… it was a great night, yeah?"

"Top 3," Harry agreed promptly.

Ron arched an eyebrow at Harry curiously. "What are the other two?"

Harry instantly flushed and Ron grinned. It would never get old…

"First," Harry began, surprising Ron. He hadn't actually expected him to answer. "The night we got together. Second, the erm… the first time we… yeah."

Ron felt his own blush at that, both at the memory and the fact that apparently, the night he defeated Voldemort didn't even rank on Harry's top 3 list. Though in fairness, the night Harry defeated Voldemort was also the night that he'd died, along with others.

"You've given this a lot of thought then," he said at last.

Harry shrugged. "Pretty easy list to make."

"I suppose." They lapsed into comfortable silence, Ron recognizing the measured breathing from Harry, drilled into him by Thelma. Ron really needed to remember to send her the world's largest basket of chocolate.

"My list is the same by the way," Ron broke the silence once he was confident Harry was breathing steadily without having to concentrate. "Though I have an honourable mention."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm. I wasn't awake for it, otherwise it may have earned an actual slot. But I think I have to include the night I, how did you put it? ...sprawled across you? Effectively turning you gay."

Harry laughed, shoving Ron roughly enough to dislodge him momentarily from his seat on the bed.

"Oi! I thought it was your earring that turned me gay?"

"Ah, too true. Well, can you imagine if I'd had the earring when I did the sprawling?" he leered at Harry, who was making a valiant effort not to laugh, an effort that failed moments later when Ron dramatically swooped his hair back to show off the earring, which was entirely unnecessary with his new haircut.

"You're such a git..."

"Perhaps. But…"

"...I love you."

Ron jerked back in surprise at the sudden proclamation, staring at Harry.

Ron and Harry had loved each other for years, but saying so was not something you did as two 14 year old boys, and besides that, loving each other as mates and brothers and soldiers… and lovers... those were all very different things.

The funny thing was, Ron knew Harry loved him. He'd known for ages really, and he had sort of gotten to the point where he thought maybe it just wasn't going to get said. I mean, how much more obvious could it be? Did he really need to hear it?

It turned out that yes, yes he did.

Harry met Ron's eyes and the temperature of the room suddenly began to ratchet up by degrees. Ron suddenly forgot about the mail. Forgot that Harry was upset. Forgot that two of his brothers were downstairs. He had Harry flat on the bed and pinned beneath him in less time than it took to take his next breath.

"You mean that?" he panted between the kisses he was currently ravaging across Harry's face and neck.

Harry pressed a hand against Ron's chest and pushed firmly, forcing Ron to let up and look down properly at him.

"I love you," Harry repeated, and just how much he meant it was clear on his face.

"I love you too. I've… bloody hell, I've loved you for so long Harry."

Harry fisted Ron's shirt and brought him back down to continue their frantic kissing, which was suddenly devoid of their now well developed finesse, yet somehow hotter for it.

"Charm the door," Ron groaned, fumbling to remove Harry's clothes as quickly as he could.

"I don't care if they hear," Harry replied, earning a breathy laugh from Ron, who had finally succeeded in getting Harry undressed and was working on his own shirt.

"This whole thing turn you into a bit of an exhibitionist then?"

Harry rolled his eyes and twisted around for the nightstand, returning with the lube which he handed to Ron and his wand which he aimed at the door and cast a silencing charm.

"Happy?"

"Exceedingly," Ron responded.

"You should move in," Harry said, his breath catching on the last syllable as Ron chose that moment to return to the task at hand.

Ron paused, earning a frustrated grunt from Harry.

"Huh?"

"Here. You should move your stuff in here… should be our room, not just mine… for fuck's sake, can we talk about this later?"

Ron grinned, pinning Harry's insistent hips down with both hands. "You're the one who brought it up…"

"Move in. Properly. _Our_ room."

"Ok."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"I love you."

"I love you."

* * *

When Harry had suggested they offer to let their friends move into Grimmauld Place with them, Ron had thought it was a brilliant idea. He hadn't thought much about it beyond having their mates around, which sounded like fun as far as he was concerned.

At the moment however, the realities of the arrangement were dawning on him. They had only had housemates for a few hours, Dean hadn't even arrived yet, and Ron found himself skulking along the third floor corridor in an attempt to avoid the almighty row going on downstairs between his mother and sister. Evidently, two of Molly's children living under the same roof warranted personal appearances on a more frequent basis.

The current issue being discussed, rather loudly, in the downstairs sitting room, was Ginny's post Hogwarts aspirations. Ginny and Molly did not see eye to eye on Ginny's current approach. Molly wasn't opposed to Ginny setting her sights on a professional quidditch career and had been generally supportive of the idea on the whole, but Ginny's lack of any sort of back up plan was a slight point of contention.

In a shocking turn of events, Ron actually agreed with his mother in this instance, but he wasn't going to tell Ginny that. And anyway, this wasn't really about Ginny's career aspirations. The baby was flying the nest. He didn't really know how to navigate that topic with his mother, and that was how he found himself skulking in an attempt to avoid having to take sides.

"Not too keen on the fireworks going off downstairs then?"

Ron jumped and turned to find Hermione, her hair pulled back and her wand in hand as she levitated an assortment of boxes behind her. He smiled down at her, relieved to have something to do other than blatantly avoid his family members as he opened the door to Hermione's room for her with a shrug.

"Ta," she said, maneuvering the levitated boxes to a corner of half unpacked books before finally looking back up at him.

"That the last of your mobile library or do we need to bring in reinforcements?" he teased, knowing full well that Hermione had at least half a dozen boxes of books still at her parent's house.

"Hardy har," she replied, rolling her eyes and taking a seat on the edge of her bed. "I don't need to bring all of them anyway. There's a whole library here to get through! Not to mention I'll be getting access to the Ministry library once my apprenticeship starts."

Ron grinned at that. Hermione had been over the moon when she found out that access to the ministry's libraries was one of the benefits of her placement within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Ron still wasn't entirely clear what the apprenticeship was exactly, but Hermione was thrilled about it and that was good enough for him.

Ron sat down at the small desk opposite Hermione's bed, continuing to grin at her before Hermione cleared her throat and looked away, her cheeks pinking ever so slightly.

Ron winced. He had been painstakingly re-building his friendship with Hermione over owls for the past 5 months as best he could manage. In truth, they'd probably discussed far more intimate things over owls than they ever had in person while at Hogwarts together. While with their friends, or even just with Harry, there was nearly no discernable difference between the way they were now and they way they'd been before. The trouble was, there had been very few opportunities since his coming out in December for the two of them to be alone together, and it was impossible to ignore the shadow of awkwardness without the buffer of parchment or other people.

"So," Ron tried, dutifully ignoring the sudden tension.

"So…" Hermione echoed him, still not looking directly at him.

"The shop's doing well."

"I snogged Anthony Goldstein."

Ron blinked, not quite sure he'd actually understood Hermione properly, as they'd both spoken at the same time, but there was no mistaking her blush now.

"Ok?" he said uncertainly, baffled by this new territory.

"Yeah," Hermione said, finally looking up at Ron and biting her lip nervously. "I mean. Yeah. It was… umm."

Ron's lip twitched into a small smirk, and Hermione paused as she bit her lip again. After a moment, she began to snicker and Ron quickly followed suit until the pair of them were giggling like a pair of 12 year olds. Ron stood up from the desk chair and joined Hermione on the bed, beaming at her in both amusement from their ridiculous giggle fest, as well as the sheer relief that they could laugh together like this, just the two of them.

"So," Ron finally prompted, settling his back against her headboard, more comfortable than he'd been around Hermione in what felt like years. "Anything I need to know? I don't need to beat him up do I?"

"Oh please. I could handle Anthony just fine if required," Hermione responded primly, backing up further onto the bed and leaning against the wall, shoving playfully at Ron's legs until he finally folded them to make room for hers. "It's not anything serious. Just… you know."

Ron wasn't sure he did know, but that didn't seem all that important at the moment, so he just nodded.

"I blame Ginny actually. She kept going on and on about how my last year at Hogwarts shouldn't be all doldrums just because you and Harry weren't there to nearly get me killed every few months or so."

"Oi! How am I in the category of nearly getting you killed? I thought you and I were a team against the hazards of being Harry's mates!"

"Alright," Hermione said with a laugh, "I'll give you that. Still. It was… fun."

Ron snorted at this. "Oh really? You truly are the brightest witch at Hogwarts with revelations like 'snogging is fun' aren't you?!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "For goodness' sakes Ron. I regret even bringing it up!"

"Oh c'mon. You knew I'd take the piss no matter what you said…"

"True. But…" she paused here, suddenly uncomfortable again. "I… I want us to be able to talk about this stuff."

Ron frowned slightly, confused. "It's not like we ever did before."

Hermione laughed at this and kicked his knee with her foot. "Yeah and look where that got us!"

"Well that's a point I suppose..."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment before a sharp 'Ginerva!' made its way all the way to the third floor, followed by the sharp slamming of a door. Ron let out a long sigh.

"So," Hermione said, ignoring the storm outside her room. "How are you and Harry?"

"Things are good," Ron replied. "Harry gets bored quite a bit but he's trying to keep busy. Now that he's, ya know, healthier and stuff he gets a bit stir crazy…"

"That's not what I meant," Hermione interrupted. "I know how you are individually- we were writing just about every other day. I meant how are _you and Harry._"

"Oh. Um, great. Things are… things are really great." Ron cursed himself as he felt his blush creeping its way up his neck.

"Mmm. Real descriptive Ron."

"Well… ya know," Ron waved his arms about helplessly. "Emotional range of a teaspoon, I believe it was?"

Hermione snickered slightly and shook her head. "Please. We both know I'd never been more wrong in my life when I made that assessment."

Ron's head snapped up in surprise but he refrained from comment.

"I assume there's a bit more than snogging going on…" she prompted, causing Ron's mouth to drop open as he gaped at her.

"_Hermione_!"

"What? Did you think no one was going to realize you're old room has been vacated?" she said slyly.

Ron dropped his forehead to his knees to hide his face, which was now as Weasley red as it could get.

"That doesn't mean I was expecting to get interrogated about it," he mumbled.

Hermione laughed, the sound light and carefree, and Ron suddenly found that he'd be willing to go through this bit of embarrassment any time if it meant Hermione would continue to laugh like this, like she did before horcruxes and half blood princes, before death eaters and Dumbledore's Army.

"Fine," she said finally, "be a prude and don't share. I just want you to know that I'm genuinely so happy for the two of you," her voice suddenly became more serious. "Truly Ron. If it had to be anyone else, I'm glad it's Harry."

Ron finally looked back up at her, at the sincerity in her eyes.

"I love him."

He wasn't sure why he felt he needed to say it, especially to Hermione, and hoped desperately that it wouldn't hurt her. But it was the truth, and he wanted her to know that he wanted to share these things with her, after everything they'd been through.

Hermione smiled softly at him and reached over to put her hand over his where it was resting on his knees.

"I know," she said simply.

Ron nodded. Of course she knew. She bloody well knew everything.

"I told him as much for the first time last weekend. He… he said it first. And then he asked me to move in with him properly… not that I was ever sleeping in my own room, but still." Hermione squeezed his hand and he looked up at her, still blushing, but less furiously than before. "And Hermione…" She tilted her head, waiting. "If you think snogging is fun, just wait 'til you get around to shagging..."

Hermione threw her head back and laughed again, Ron joining her, hoping for everything he was worth that no matter how much their lives changed, he would always be able to sit with Hermione and laugh like this.

There was a soft knock at the door then, and Hermione called, "it's open!"

"Not interrupting anything am I," Ginny asked, peering into the room.

"Nope, come on in," Ron gestured for her to enter.

Ginny flopped onto the mattress, which was becoming increasingly crowded, and let out a long sigh.

"Rough day Gin?" Ron asked.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Don't. I know you both probably think I'm just as crazy as mum does. I get it… just don't tell her that."

"We don't think you're crazy Ginny," Hermione offered kindly. "I just think…"

"You're going to make a team Ginny," Ron interrupted. He didn't know why, but despite agreeing with his mother that Ginny really should have a back up plan, he felt now wasn't the time to say so.

"Well I haven't yet."

"So what?" Ron challenged. "You're brilliant. Everyone knows it. You're going to get offered a contract. Any team would be daft not to sign you on."

Ginny stared at Ron for a moment before her gaze slid to Hermione's, a knowing look passing between them.

"What?" Ron asked, suddenly self conscious. "What'd I say?"

Ginny just shook her head as a small smirk formed on her lips while Hermione began to absently play with the hemline of her t shirt, not looking up at Ron.

"It's…" Ginny struggled to find her words. "Don't take this the wrong way Ron, ok? It's just that, you're a lot… _nicer_... since you came out."

"I'm what?"

"Nicer. You're just more nice. Don't get all bent out of shape over it."

"What do you mean though? I've always been plenty nice!"

Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances again and Ron crossed his arms and huffed.

"Fine," he said, "Lay it on me…"

Ginny snorted and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You just… you weren't mean like Draco or anything," Hermione tried to explain, "but in hindsight, I think you were just incredibly tense all the time. It's different now. You're more open."

Ron sighed, relaxing into the headboard and closing his eyes for a moment, deciding how to respond.

"I reckon that's a good way to put it."

Ginny and Hermione began to giggle and before long were both laughing, partly at his expense, he knew, but Ron let the sound wash over him, content.

* * *

As summers went, it was probably Ron's favorite to date. It felt rather like one long party, with their friends all gathering up in the evenings to chat or play games, and on a couple of occasions get themselves completely pissed.

While Ron himself worked most days, the rest of their new housemates really didn't have anywhere to be and were revelling in their new freedom- basking in the tiny bubble of independence before they had any real adult responsibilities.

It was good for Harry. Having so many people around made it hard for him to play the recluse, which would have been all too easy given he really couldn't go out much without inciting a press riot at the minute. Ron actually had some difficulty at work at first, but after a week of nearly clocking photographers in order to get them to clear away from the shop entrance to allow customers through, George had told Ron not to bother and instead stepped just outside the door and proceeded to cast some of the most intensely powerful wards and charms Ron had ever seen from his brother. When George had come back inside, Ron had gaped at him, impressed, but also genuinely shocked by the display of sheer power.

George had smirked at him, though Ron knew him well enough to see the mixture of exhaustion behind the smug expression, so he hadn't asked just when and how George had developed the ability to ward an entire block in one go.

As June merged into July, the Gryffindors of Grimmauld Place managed to establish a fairly organized way of living, the adjustments only slight given they'd all lived together before, albeit without the added responsibility of having to cook and clean for themselves. Kreacher was a major help in that area though, so there were never any real rows over whose turn it was to sort the dishes and the like.

The moment it really sunk in that this was indeed different than their Hogwarts days, was when Hermione had come downstairs one morning to find a young woman she didn't recognize seated at the dining table with Seamus, and a very confunded and embarrassed looking Harry.

In hindsight, they probably should have discussed what the protocol ought to be if one of them wanted to have a, erm, _guest _over for the night, but it hadn't occurred to any of them until now.

"What the bloody hell Seamus!" Harry demanded, once the young lady had been escorted to the floo following her breakfast.

"What?" Seamus asked, genuinely confused at the outburst.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, deciding it was probably better to keep silent as she began to slather butter onto her toast, not looking at Seamus or Harry.

Before Harry could reply, Dean appeared, asking what the ruckus was about as he swiped a piece of toast from Hermione's plate, earning a scowl.

"Yeah seriously," Ginny added, entering the kitchen with a sleepy looking Neville trailing in behind her.

Harry gave Seamus an exasperated look and gestured to the various occupants of the kitchen, all of them dressed in either pajamas or dressing gowns.

"What're yeh on about?"

"Don't you think the rest of us might appreciate a bit of warning if there's going to be a stranger in our kitchen on any given morning? Maybe have a chance to put some clothes on?"

Dean turned to look at Seamus with a smirk. "I thought you were just staying for 'one more round' mate."

Seamus grinned. "Yeah well. One more round at the pub, then a round 'tween the sheets…"

"Oh please," Ginny cut him off, wrinkling her nose, as she accepted a steaming mug of tea from Kreacher. "Like you know what you're doing 'tween the sheets'," she scoffed, imitating his accent.

"I beg your pardon?! I happen to be a brilliant lover. And I'm more 'an willing to show yeh…"

"This is totally beside the point!" Harry exclaimed, wishing he could unhear Seamus' last statement.

"Oh pipe down Harry. What's the big deal," Semaus defended himself. "It's not like any of us prance around the house in our pants!"

At that moment, a bleary eyed Ron entered the kitchen, clad in nothing more than a pair of pants and a single sock. Harry clapped one hand over his eyes and gestured helplessly at his boyfriend with the other. Ginny snorted into her tea while Neville let out a small giggle that he quickly tried to turn into a cough.

"Look," Hermione intervened, "I do think it's probably fair we set some mutual ground rules on having any guests over."

"I agree," Harry said quickly.

"Oh sure," Seamus said with an eye roll. "Says the only one amongst us sharing his room… and occasionally _forgetting to put up a bloody silencing charm_…!"

"Oi!" Harry's face suddenly went crimson, "We forgot _one time_ and we have apologized basically every day since!"

"Doesn't matter mate," Neville said somberly, "there are things a man simply cannot unhear."

Dean raised his mug to Neville in solidarity before the pair of them erupted into laughter.

"We will _forever_ give you shit about it mate," Seamus smirked. "Especially since we all know Ron can cast the strongest silencing charm of us all."

"I don't ca… wait," Harry paused, "Ron has the best silencing charms?"

"Course," Neville replied. "He learned how to cast them before any of us so he could start doing them for you when the…" Neville trailed off, noticing Hermione shaking her head.

"When the what?" Harry prompted, eyeing Hermione.

"Umm. When the nightmares started to be a thing. You… you didn't know?"

Harry blinked and looked over at Ron, who was still oblivious to the conversation as he tried to work out how to pour his coffee.

"Just when I think you two can't get any more soppy," Seamus said with an eye roll. "He's been silencing your bed for you since about second year mate. Didn't want you to be embarrassed if you woke up screaming and the like, so he worked out a way to keep the charm contained so it included both of your beds. He could hear you but none of us could, which is why we know he's a pro at them considering I still don't know how he managed to work that out. But besides all that you should really remember silencing charms if you then want to make rules about who is allowed to shag!"

"I don't care who you shag or when! I'm just saying a little warning would be good!"

Ron finally seemed to have joined them in the land of wakefulness and was looking around the room in confusion as he took a seat next to Harry.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Seamus had a bird over last night. Harry is bent out of shape because she was at the breakfast table and he's apparently concerned for your dignity," Dean summarised.

Ron blinked, looking around the table at each of them before finally looking at Harry and asking, "huh?"

Harry sighed. "I just think we should have some way of notifying the rest of the house if there is going to be a guest at the breakfast table. That's all."

Ron suddenly looked alarmed, finally having caught up with the conversation. "Ginny's not having anyone over!"

The room went very quiet, as the occupants suddenly found their tea and coffee the most fascinating thing on the planet. All except the two Weasleys…

"Excuse me?" Ginny said, the false calm in her voice fooling no one.

Ron swallowed. "I just mean… I don't think… what I meant is…"

Ginny was smirking at her brother as he tried to backpedal, but gave no indication she was going to help him dig his way out of this.

"What you meant," she cut off his spluttering, "is that it's perfectly acceptable for you to shag my ex-boyfriend one floor below me, but I can't bring anyone over. Is that what you meant?"

Seamus let out a low whistle, as Harry stared up at the ceiling, partly hoping it would crash down on him.

Ron sat very still for a moment before saying, very carefully, "How about if anyone has a guest over, they just charm the door handles to glow when you touch them. Sort of like our DA Galleons. That way when we exit a room, we'll know someone we don't know could be on the other side. And… maybe if the guest happens to be one of yours Ginny, you add something to the charm? Change the colour or something? That way I'll know I can just jump out the window instead..."

"A very good suggestion Ron," Hermione swooped in.

She knew Ginny didn't mean anything malicious with her dig, but her loyalty would always lie with Ron and Harry, even when they were giant prats. And in this case, she didn't think Ginny, or anyone else really, appreciated just how uncomfortable Harry was with his past relationship with Ginny and the potential family drama he was inciting by now dating her brother.

"So that's settled," Neville agreed. "And for Merlin's sake Ron, if it does happen, put some trousers on before you come downstairs. I don't need any girl daft enough to come home with me to see you strutting around like something out of _Quidditch Unrobed_."

Ron wrinkled his nose, confused, but before he could determine what Neville meant by that, an owl flew in and landed gracefully in front of Ginny.

The room suddenly went silent again as Ginny stared at the bird, and the rather thick looking parchment attached to it. She looked up nervously, her eyes finding Ron's, who gave her an encouraging smile.

As the weeks had gone by, the high hopes Ginny had had of being contracted to a professional league team had started to fade. Most teams started their training camps in the fall, but many facilitated summer camps for their rookies.

The Falmouth Falcons' rookie camp had started last week. Ginny hadn't said a word, but they all knew the Falcon's had been one of the teams most interested in her during the Hogwarts season.

Hands trembling slightly, Ginny retrieved the letter, not daring to look at anyone once she saw the seal. There was one team Ginny had wanted to be on more than any other, but their scouts had never been too proactive with her. She knew they'd seen her play, but she had long ago buried the idea that they were really interested. They had some of the strongest chasers in the league after all, so it wasn't likely they needed another.

Stealing herself, and ignoring the fact that everyone was staring at her, Ginny ripped the letter open and began to read. With a yelp, she leapt up from the table, mouth open as she continued to read.

"Holy shit!"

"What?! What's it say Gin?" Ron had stood up too, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table.

Ginny looked up, her face beaming with pride and genuine surprise as she held up the letter.

"The Harpies! The _HARPIES_ Ron! I'm in! Holy mother of Merlin, _I'm in_!"

Ron let out a mangled 'whoop!' and jumped up onto the table to get across it to his sister, tackling her into a bear hug as their friends suddenly exploded into celebration around them.

"Ginny! This is incredible! YOU are INCREDIBLE! The Harpies!?" Ron shouted.

"I can't believe this!"

"Well done Ginny!"

"Congratulations!"

"We're celebrating!" Ron announced amidst the growing clamor, "What do you reckon Gin? Pick up match at the burrow and then head out to a pub? My treat!"

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